


Sith of Old

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin & Obi-Wan the Same Age, Creepy Sith Tombs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heavy Angst, Lesbian Ahsoka Tano, M/M, Ongoing Story: I Do Not Know If It Will End Happy or Sad, Sith Ahsoka Tano, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, bisexual Obi-Wan, see author notes for warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-07-03 17:43:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: The only healthy relationship in this whole damn mess of ambitious Sith is Obi-Wan and his apprentice Ahsoka. He really does mean to make her an excellent, successful Sith. But that's after chapter 2. Before that, he's a small, outcast acolyte just trying to survive the Sith Academy on Korriban, 3000 years before the Prequel era.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nine full chapters exist, in various stages of preparedness.
> 
> I knew going in that the second chapter would end dark. What I didn't realize at that time was that the story would both continue, and get darker.
> 
> Warnings that were cluttering the tags: 
> 
> Obi-Wan is going to fool Anakin into thinking Obi-Wan wants sex & (eventually) is in love with him.  
> Obi-Wan is manipulating Anakin because of fear for Obi-Wan's own wellbeing and survival, and because it might open an opportunity to escape Korriban.  
> Betrayals. So many betrayals. It makes even my heart hurt.  
> Unmeant threats of noncon; fear of noncon; vague reference by Obi-Wan of past noncon.  
> The Sith practice of murdering sexual partners to protect the Sith's standing/safety/Purity of Darkness  
> Creepy Sith Tombs  
> No graphic noncon. Sometimes explicit sex, but less than I anticipated there would be at the beginning  
> Slow Burn Obikin: Except I don't know if they'll actually end up together in the end. And they have sex before the end of Chapter 2. It's after the initial disaster that it's a slow burn, so we'll just say:  
> Slow Burn: reinterpreted by Fair Warning.
> 
> No Underage (going by my country's age of consent being 18) This story starts out with Anakin and Obi-Wan as 16ish, then skips a bit to when they're older. 
> 
> There will be many, many messed up relationships in this story. And there will be murder. Sometimes of unexpected people. Sometimes I didn't expect it either.
> 
> In this first chapter there will be:  
> Injuries/Attacks by Wild Giant Slugs  
> Gruesome Killing of Giant Evil Slugs
> 
> Later on there will be:  
> Temporary Obi-Wan/Satine  
> Murder  
> Valkorion, and Emperor Malgus.  
> (Long live the New Empire)
> 
> Did you know there's a Lana Beniko/Harry Potter tag? I'm not using it. I'm just impressed it exists.
> 
> So let's start this: Introducing Anakin....

 

He had no pedigree.

Hell, when asked, his mother couldn't even explain who his father was, and she certainly had no great lineage of her own. Her claim to freedom was her own, having been fought for tooth and claw until she released herself and her son from their owner's possession.

Unfortunately for the blooded nobility of the Sith, there weren't enough warriors after the war, so the Academy on Korriban was forced to throw open its doors to anyone able to touch the Force.

The vast majority still died in the early months of the weeding out, but Anakin had  _lasted._ His sheer power had kept him safe, the weaker students realizing quickly that to challenge him was to die.

The stronger students, well...

He out-powered them, yes, but they had  _political_ standing. They had  _blood_ and  _ancestral fame_ and carried the favor of the teachers— especially the Sith Purebloods, who hated Anakin for his species as well as his lack of descent.

Which was why, just before the first hint of dawn, he stood at the mouth of the tomb of Adjunta Pall.

Somewhere in those depths, Lord Spindrall dwelt, and though some considered the man now mad, he had  _earned_ his title, and the respect of the Empire before he retired from the world.

He also cared little for how the Sith Order was run.

That alone might have been heresy, but for the fact that his prophecies were held in high esteem. The Dark Council would look away for that.

Anakin had learned in this past year that power alone in this shark tank was not enough. The sixteen-year-old needed more, if he was going to earn the apprenticeship of a noteworthy Darth.

Darth Baras and Lord Zash were both expected to return any day to choose apprentices, but Anakin knew he wouldn't have a shot with those two. The overseers were grooming others for those roles.

_I need an edge._

Anakin descended the stairs, his mother's dagger loose in its hidden sheathe by his hip, and his acolyte training blade in his hand.

That was little more than a sword-length of round steel, covered with a venom that would inflict excruciating pain and then a paralytic that left the body-part struck incapable of movement.

If you struck a k'lor'slug  _very_ hard with it, you could kill one. Using the Force against them would more likely keep you alive, since beating them over the head to death would take far too long before their teeth got  _you._

The last of the stars disappeared from view and Anakin turned the corner, unwilling to light his glowrod just yet. It would make  _him_ very visible, and only offer so much visibility for the path ahead.

The muffled whimper of a sentient in pain and desperate not to wail aloud drew Anakin off the main path to peer into a side room.

There, with their brains crushed completely out of their heads, lay three k'lor'slugs. Massive ones. Not a mother and her brood, but adult males, with vicious teeth and spines, some of which were stained dark.

In the corner huddled a small figure, head bowed, rocking against the pain.

Anakin stepped forward, though he knew better. Compassion wasn't something you could show in the Sith Academy. At  _all._

But the only acolytes who lived down here were ones who had failed some vital test, and had fled here to try to survive, to keep the teachers or other students from slaughtering them.

_A terrible fate._

Who would  _really_ know or care?

So Anakin stepped closer.

Golden eyes snapped up, revealing a gaunt pale face and hair somewhere between a dark brown and a deep red in the murk of the labyrinth.

The fingers of one hand reached up and curled, ready to fight.

“Easy,” Anakin offered. “Your arm looks pretty mangled.”

A hiss escaped the injured teen, fury flooding those eyes. And fear.

_He can probably sense I wouldn't have needed him weakened to kill him in combat._ Though given the shape of the k'lor'slugs, it was entirely likely that Anakin would limp away from such a victory with pains that would last at least a week.  _A desperate little thing._ “I have some healing skills. Let me have a look at it?”

The fear didn't abate, but the fury shifted to a careful wariness, weighing Anakin for everything he was worth. “And what in return?”

He had the voice of a blood-lined Sith, or one who had been taught from an early age to sound it.

“Lead me to Spindrall.”

“Done,” came the reply, too fast for the calculating look in the eye.

_He is suffering terribly, then._

Anakin crouched beside him and held out his hands.

In spite of the fear the failed acolyte still reeked of, he shoved his arm into Anakin's care, grit his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Kark,” Anakin muttered as he inspected the wounds. “Teeth broke off in there.”  
A broken nod let him know the other Sith already knew.

Using the Force, Anakin dislodged the shards and drew them out.

His ally shuddered, then sagged against the wall, unconscious as Anakin continued his work.

Once finished, Anakin stood guard, debating whether it was worth the wait to obtain a guide.

He could choose to not insist on payment, could go find Spindrall himself, leave the other here to recover or not as the Force willed...

He found himself lingering, in spite of himself.

There was a sad beauty to the teen who lay crumpled against the wall. Unconsciousness had stripped away the cornered animal defenses, leaving just the person beneath.

A person Anakin found he wanted to know more about.

He hadn't met  _anyone_ on Korriban in this past year who had intrigued him. Just people to defeat, people to evade, people to kill, people to survive.

Anakin rather missed having friends. He'd had a few, back when he was little, and it had been nice. Comfortable, even.

So when eyelashes trembled, then opened to reveal confused and dazed orbs beneath, Anakin smiled. “Let's go. Spindrall awaits.”

The little Sith pulled himself to his feet and poked a finger into his injured arm. He gave a satisfied hum and a nod before beckoning Anakin to follow him.

He still bore injures, revealed in the very careful attempts not to limp.

You didn't show weakness to anyone. Ever.

Unless you wanted to die, humiliated and with everything taken from you.

“So. Why are you here?” Anakin asked, that not-entirely-killed wish for a friend betraying him.

The little Sith sent him a sideways glance. “It's fairly  _evident,_ isn't it?” he bit out. “I didn't have enough raw power to pass a test specifically aimed at weeding me out.”

“How long have you been here?”

“What? You think there's a calendar on the wall with a helpful  _chrono_ beside it so we can tell when it's day or night outside?”

_Oh, he's clever with his tongue too._

“What exactly did you do to those slugs?”  _It looked like you exploded their brains out their ears._

A shrug. “If you can't kick the door down, you figure out how to pick locks.”  
“Are you one of Spindrall's disciples?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” retorted the other, clearly suspicious. “What is it to you?”  
Anakin smirked. “And I've got one more. What is your name?”

“Why? So you can tell an overseer where to find me so they can come and put me down like a dog?”

“To be perfectly honest, I think you'd kill  _my_ overseer. It might be a good idea to send him down. You could pick his lock and leave him humiliated and slug food.”

A tiny hint of a smile cracked at the creature's lips. “You don't get along with your teacher?”

“Force, no.”

For a long time they continued in silence, the guide shepherding Anakin past traps— a few of which he realized uneasily likely would have gotten him, had he been alone— and to the final stretch of hall.

“Spindrall's through that door,” the other offered.

Anakin gave a nod, adjusting his grip on his blade.

A k'lor'slug mother and her brood of six sluglings stood between Anakin and his objective

He was figuring out his exact strategy for speed when he saw the little Sith sprawl his fingers out, arms turning up as if in offering. His head lolled, his eyes shivered back and forth and his body convulsed as he lifted from the floor, as if a string tied to his chest dragged him upward several centimeters.

_Oh, kark!_

The guy was a fripping sorcerer!

One of the tiny slugs' brains popped like a balloon, disgusting filth spewing away from it. A sick black fluid crawled up the legs of two more, burning away like a supernatural acid.

_He'd be sending lightning, if he could._

But an Inquisitor who couldn't call lightning to his whim would  _definitely_ find themselves exiled or dead.

_Look at you._

The remaining mother and slugling raced in their direction, mandibles open to maul them.

With a shriek, the little Sith pounced on the little one, landing on its back and gouging out its eyes with his fingers.

_Holy kark._

Anakin attacked the mother, putting it down with brutal strikes to its exoskeleton, which cracked beneath the force of his blows.

The little Sith stood breathing heavily, that mad fury alight in his eyes again, hands covered in disgusting ichor.

“Thank you for the pathfinding,” Anakin offered.

The rage faded from the eyes to be replaced with wary confusion. “You paid me.”

“True.  _And_ I'm thanking you.”

“Rather polite, for a bloodless cur.”

Anakin arched an eyebrow at him. “And how would  _you_ know I'm bloodless?”

“Your accent. No Sith Lord would let their child sound like that. And you don't get along with your teacher: has to be Tremel. Your strength is in your blade work, sheer arm muscle, and a bludgeoning use of the Force. Tremel likes those with bloodlines, because they represent the future. He hates those without, because they represent the mud.”

“You know much of Tremel for an Inquisitor.”

Again, that ghost of a smile. Anakin rather liked it. “I lack power. Not eyesight.”

Anakin moved to the door and glanced back. “I would like to see you again sometime.”

“Oh, I'll probably be dead,” dismissed the other.

“I somehow doubt that. I'm Anakin, by the way.”

“A hazardous business, offering up a name.”

“I like taking risks.” Anakin sent him a full-blown smile, and then shoved open the door and stepped through, wondering with a little flutter of his heart,  _Did I really just flirt with him? Dear Force, Mom is going to kill me. I know better than this._

He hadn't  _meant_ to do something that might jeopardize his goals for life.

It just kind of...  _happened._

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Anakin managed to do the smart thing for the next three years.

There were moments when he could think of the failed Inquisitor with a shrug.

Anakin was pursuing power, and there were no shortcuts to get there. It was taking grueling effort that left little time for any form of recreation besides sleeping.

The students who partied? Failed.

Those who failed? Died.

The Sith didn't grade on a curve.

When exhaustion claimed you for sleep the instant you went horizontal, there was little room for daydreaming.

But...

There were other times when Anakin just couldn't get the little Sith out of his head.

_He would probably be beautiful, if he weren't half-starved and dying of sleep deprivation._

When nineteen-year-old Anakin finally had what Spindrall had demanded of him in order to teach him, Anakin found he didn't really resent returning to the tomb of Ajunta Pall.

He made his way through the corridors from memory, pausing only for a moment at the place where he'd met the Sith he just couldn't seem to forget.

He'd made it halfway to Spindrall's lair when a shadow pulled away from the wall and Anakin saw  _him._

Anakin felt his face curve into a genuine smile. “Still living, little locksmith? Clearly you're doing it wrong.”  
It earned him a smile. Quick, flaring bright before death and Anakin knew.

_Oh, kark._

_I want him._

Well, then. He really should get it out of his system. He should lure or overpower him, frip him, then kill him and move on.

It would keep Anakin from developing a weak point, and it would clear his mind so he could focus on surviving and getting away from Korriban, which was the most important goal.

“You return to Spindrall,” the little Sith observed. “You have no master yet.”  
“The overseers invent ways to keep me away from the Lords when they come seeking apprentices,” Anakin fumed. He needed leverage, and he finally had what it took to buy just that from Spindrall.

The other nodded. “You'll outwit them.” He began to melt back into the shadows.

“Wait,” Anakin urged. “You didn't reveal yourself just to compliment me and vanish. What's your name?”  
“You don't really need that to frip me, now do you?” the voice murmured back, deceptively soft.

_Sensed that, did you._ But it only made sense that an Inquisitor could sense desire. It was the only way to accomplish advanced questioning techniques. Sensing desires and sensing fears.

_Dangerous,_ Anakin's mind supplied.  _Knock him out, use his body, then kill him._

It would be the smart thing.

Instead, Anakin spread his hands wide. “ _Need_ ? No.  _Desire_ ? Certainly. Your name would be a better thing to cry than  _Anonymous Acolyte_ when I come.”

“Obi-Wan,” chuckled the voice in reply even as its owner completely disappeared from view. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

 

* * *

 

Spindrall accepted the price, and Anakin settled in to life in the tomb.

Days would pass without once seeing Obi-Wan, others he would think he caught just a glimpse of him, but couldn't be sure.

And then there were the days when Obi-Wan would appear and watch him while he worked or trained, with quiet, calm attention.

Those days, Anakin  _knew_ he showed off. Just a little.

He didn't think he could really help it, though.

And when he stepped into Obi-Wan's space one evening and the other didn't escape the wall his back was against, Anakin leaned in for an open-eyed kiss.

Wouldn't do to miss being stabbed. Just in case.

He was being reckless, but he had little intention of  _dying_ from it.

The little Inquisitor kissed back, his tongue as clever in Anakin's mouth as it was with its words.

Anakin ran his hands down the rail-thin sides to bony hips, lifting his ass and coaxing Obi-Wan's legs to hold tight around the taller Sith's waist.

Obi-Wan's eyes glinted a pretty gold in the shadowy light, and he offered many tiny, sweet kisses that left Anakin's mind reeling.

They weren't the kisses of a man who just wanted a quick frip and then to never have anything to do with him again.

And that's when Anakin decided that caution could screw itself.

He didn't kill the Inquisitor once they lay panting, satiated on the ground.

Instead, he twined his fingers with Obi-Wan's and just breathed.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't easy, to split his life this way.

Spindrall demanded absolute perfection, and Anakin— though capable of meeting his demands— had to work long, unforgiving hours to do it.

The moments he did manage to carve out to expend himself in the little Inquisitor's sweet body were precious in the extreme, and Anakin treasured the tiny noises his Obi-Wan made, knowing that any loud noise could not only betray a weakness to another lurker in the caverns, but also could draw the beasts who would interrupt the passionate sex.

Silence was a price they were willing to pay to remain undiscovered and uninterrupted.

It wasn't easy, though, with the way Obi-Wan's sheathe cradled and milked Anakin for all he was worth.

Two years into Anakin's apprenticeship under Spindrall, he realized he loved the little Sith.

It was a disaster, yes, but...

_But when I leave, I'll just have to take him with me._

So he did.

 

* * *

 

**A year after Anakin's apprenticeship to a Darth; three years after Anakin and Obi-Wan had become lovers...**

 

Anakin stood staring at Obi-Wan in absolute disbelief.

He  _ was  _ very beautiful, now that he was fed, slept, and clean.

It was a terrible beauty though, out of reach and horrifying because—

“How could you  _ do this _ ?” Anakin whispered, hurt to the core. “We're in love.”

An eyebrow arched at him. “Really.”

“I— I risked  _ everything  _ to get you out of there! To bring you with me! And you  _ steal my apprenticeship— _ ?”

A snarl formed on the fair face, golden eyes flashing and narrowing. “Do not wail as if you got nothing out of the arrangement. The moment you first moved to kiss me I had a choice. Resist you, end up fripped by you and then  _ dead _ , or humor you, convince you to no longer see me as a liability until I could escape Korriban  _ and  _ you. I may not be able to survive a battle with you, but I can hold on long enough for there to be trouble. You don't have the  _ time  _ to kill me now.” The slender fingers were gripped tight around his double-bladed saber's hilt, and he was afraid. Anakin could sense it.

“You— you pretended to love me because you thought I would just take what I wanted either way?” Anakin echoed, feeling gutted. It had been a reasonable assumption, that  _ was  _ the way of the Sith— take what you want and let no one stop you, but...

He  _ loved  _ this man, and Obi-Wan...

Obi-Wan had lied all along.

Clever and conniving, just as Anakin had known from the start he was. Desperate and willing to do whatever it took to survive.

And pedigreed.

He just had to escape Korriban to have that blood actually  _ mean  _ something.

It was true, Anakin had to flee, or his life would end here, taken out by the men who had jumped to obey him just yesterday.

“This was always your plan?” Anakin rasped. “Convince me to love you, then steal my life?”

“I picked your lock.”

Anakin fled, since survival had always been the highest goal, but after escaping he wandered aimlessly for hours.

Obi-Wan had always seemed so willing, so eager—

The deception so complete.

_ I don't scheme enough to get anywhere near the top,  _ Anakin realized in dread. He could have all the power in the universe, but if he couldn't navigate the vicious political waters of Dromund Kaas and the Dark Council...

It would never amount to anything.

Rule number one: Frip them, then kill them.

He certainly understood why now, though he knew he would still,  _ knowing  _ where it all ended up, be unable to do so could he live his life over again.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard left turn. The idea the brain sparkles hounded down was of Obi-Wan trying to find pleasure with Satine, and dallying with her for quite some time. It's consensual, but it's also spectacularly unhealthy. Also explicit and somewhat on page. She's not a pacifist, because the events I interpret to having brought her canon self to believe in pacifism haven't occurred in this era. She also may or may not be ambivalent to death.
> 
> We also get a very uncomfortable reunion of our two Sith, and Obi-Wan is forced to confront Very Uncomfortable Feelings. It's all very violent and nasty.
> 
> Also, Obi-Wan's past includes noncon other than Anakin, and though it's in vague terms, he does mention it at one point. Quite angrily.
> 
> There is murder in this chapter. It's not meant to make the reader feel comfortable.
> 
> This story is going in a bizarre direction, but I have through chapter 9 written out, and I'm really... enjoying the strangeness of it all. Most of it has unrolled in my mind when I'm actually trying to sleep, scenes and conversations just unspooling and leaving me scrambling for light and a pen and going through my stash of sticky notes at a truly alarming speed. I can't say it's comfortable, but I won't lie. I love it when stories piece themselves together like that.

 

Obi-Wan sank on his back on the bed, still panting from release.

Beside him curled Satine Kryze, of the exiled Kryze Clan of Mandalore.

_ Now. _

He rolled over and reached to the table beside the bed, closed his fingers over the hilt of his double-bladed saber.

She'd come to him willingly, had flirted right back and invited him back to her room for a frip.

Obi-Wan was a newly-made Darth, he couldn't afford gaps in his defense, anything that could be used against him, and certainly not an individual who might very well turn on him at a later point.

The same way Obi-Wan had on...

_ Time to kill her. _

Except the knowledge filled him with a crippling  _ regret. _

He didn't...  _ want _ ... to kill her.

He would much rather frip her again, sometime. Kiss her, peer into those beautiful eyes again...

“Why haven't you killed me yet?” her voice asked, and he couldn't force himself to turn to look. “You're hesitating.”

Obi-Wan did roll over, then, his gold eyes finding blue ones, saber still in his grip, but now visible to her, the both of them still naked and his come between her thighs. “If you knew the danger, why did you come to me?”

“I spend all my days hiding. Running. It's a hell of a way for a Mandalorian to live. I can't stand my clan, but they're all I have left, and none of it seems particularly worth fighting to keep. And you looked very, very scrumptious.”

“You would trade one night of sex for death?”

She shrugged. “A risk of death. But I'm tired of being safe.” She propped her elbow up and braced her head in her hand, body still on full display. “Sometimes Sith frip and leave the other alive to build alliances, sometimes they're left alive on a whim or from a desire for future pleasure. The most dedicated of Sith either enslave or kill their partner directly after, but even the slavery option is full of needless threat to the pursuit of power you crave so deeply.”

Strange, that she would understand so clearly what...  _he..._ could not.

But Obi-Wan couldn't think about  _him_ without that awful churning in his gut, so he  _wouldn't._

“I cannot imagine it's my alliance that you are weighing against your own safety. My clan is a bunch of disowned drunks who can barely shoot straight anymore.”

“But you can,” Obi-Wan asserted. “You could fight me for your life.”

She scoffed. “ _Could,_ yes. But you haven't even decided if you're  _going_ to kill me yet. So what are you hesitating over? A rather unimpressive alliance, a whim, a pretense of 'lovers' the way the rest of the galaxy does, a slave— or, huh. You're not considering me for your progeny, are you? Because that's the only other reason I can think of.”

“I am not prepared to begin strengthening my bloodline yet. I could not defend progeny, and I have nowhere to hide them.” It would be done eventually, of course. All Sith had children, it strengthened your standing, ensured your influence carried on after your death.

“And besides. My blood is thin enough. My progeny will be borne by a Force-powerful woman.”

“Wouldn't want to water it down with someone Force deaf,” she chuckled.

“I can't afford to.” Some could. Obi-Wan's children might not be Force-sensitive at  _all_ without added insurance, and that would be disastrous.

“Do you intend to chain me in your ship to have your way with me whenever you feel the urge?” she asked, sounding dismissive again.

Obi-Wan's lip curled in disgust. “That is not a pleasant thought.”

“You want me willingly, then. Again.” She smiled. “You thought I was good.”  
She  _ was  _ good. And even better, she was  _ different. _

He'd taken a few creatures who hadn't known better, or who had assumed that they were good enough at sex to be left alive afterwards. Male, with golden curls and square jaws...

They were all dead, of course. Obi-Wan hadn't faltered  _ then. _

They also hadn't been very satisfying. Because they weren't...  _ him. _

_ Force damn it. _

Satine had been  _ wonderful  _ because there was  _ no way in hell  _ Obi-Wan could confuse her with...  _ him  _ while they fripped. None of the painful stabs somewhere in his ribcage or gut, leaving him more likely to  _ cry  _ than  _ come,  _ even while fully engaged in sex.

_ It's been six years. It's not normal. _

Normal would have been to slay Anakin Skywalker, so that Obi-Wan could find closure and move on. Not to mention protect himself from the revenge that would inevitably come, just as soon as Anakin had enough resources to pull it off.

But Obi-Wan would never be physically powerful enough to kill Anakin Skywalker.

_ There are other ways,  _ his mind whispered. 

Paying someone else to do it, arranging for Anakin to be sent on a suicide mission, letting the Republic or the Hutts do it... luring Anakin into a place where nature itself would to it...

He'd had six years.

He...

Hadn't done it.

And now this woman lay before him, utterly unafraid,  _ foolishly  _ so,  _ stupidly  _ risking her life for intangible reasons.

Just like Obi-Wan continued to do, day after day, by not attempting to destroy Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-Wan intended to have a Dark Council seat. It was a long, and patient path to get there, full of lock picking, and there were a thousand variables he  _ couldn't  _ control along the way. That's why it was imperative that every factor he  _ could  _ control, he  _ would. _

You didn't leave the course of your life to chance, or you got nowhere, and Obi-Wan Kenobi  _ would not  _ be nothing.

He  _ lived  _ that belief daily, he put it into effect ruthlessly...

Except for...

No. It couldn't happen twice.

He pressed the ignition switch.

Satine tilted her chin back, pressed her chest out, leaving herself more open, more vulnerable.

Obi-Wan found himself frozen again.

“You're used to a desperate scramble to fight back, or terror, or begging, aren't you,” she said, staring him in the eye. “So what are you going to do? Do I live to see another sunrise, or not?”

_ I... enjoy her. _

Not just her body, but her personality, though he couldn't understand such an ambivalence to  _ life. _

There was nothing in his life simply there because he  _ liked  _ it. Everything had a purpose.

Your average, pathetic Sith who never really got anywhere in life had  _ plenty  _ of things  _ just  _ for the purpose of enjoying them. Ridiculous houses, slaves,  _ social life,  _ going to plays and parties and  _ whatever else,  _ as if they were ungifted mortal  _ peasants. _

Those on the Dark Council?

They  _ intended  _ to be there, and they  _ got themselves  _ there. By being ruthless with self, and everyone else.

You picked what you wanted  _ most,  _ and everything else just had to go away, with only the occasional dalliance every once in a long while.

The fury of being denied whatever it was that you enjoyed— novels, holofilms, parties, frequent sex with a person you could trust, sleeping in— drove your need to reach the top, to acquire the thing you were sacrificing it all for.

That was how empires were built.

They weren't conquered in spare time.

Obi-Wan switched off his saber, dropping it on the bed behind him, and bracing himself over the top of Satine, her hand coming up to trace his bicep as she shifted to lie on her back again, glorious and curved and... blond.

Obi-Wan nearly rolled his eyes.

Force  _ damn  _ it.

“Made up your mind?” Satine whispered, lifting her head so her breath ghosted against his lips.

“Yes. To decide later,” he breathed back.

She choked a chuckle. “Perhaps you are just as terrible a Sith as I am a Mandalorian.”

“Hating your kin for being pathetic hardly makes you a terrible Mandalorian,” Obi-Wan countered, lowering his head to capture her mouth in a deep kiss.

“Some days I just want to kill them all,” Satine replied before continuing said kiss.

“Again, sounds fairly reasonable.”

That chuckle once more, and then she rolled them over and planted her palms on his chest, grinning down into his face. “A Sith Lord and a Mandalorian met in a bar sounds like the beginning of a joke, but it seems to be going in a rather more pleasurable direction for us.”

Something cold was beneath his shoulder. He fished it out, held up a blaster with a sardonic eyebrow-raise. “So how much of what you just told me was true, and how much was a bid to convince me to frip you again before we fought to the death?”  
“Less of the first, a lot more of the second.”

He tossed the blaster to the floor and seized her hips. “That much, at least, can be arranged.”

_ I will not let you be the end of me. _

But for the first time ever, he felt cracks in his resolve.

 

 

* * *

 

Anakin stumbled back from the door, throwing scarred forearms up to protect his face. He spun around, found someone else braced for hell, dualsaber clenched tight in his hands.

_ Oh, you've got to be  _ kidding  _ me. _

Anakin's master— his  _ fourth  _ in the seven years since Obi-Wan's betrayal _ —  _ had sent him to this fripping  _ insane  _ Sith Temple on Zigoola, because if Anakin died, who cared? And if he survived and brought back the scrolls, it would make Darth Imbecile— Anakin's pet name for him— spectacularly popular on Dromund Kaas.

Coward wouldn't go  _ himself,  _ risk the Temple's ghosts and traps and  _ hellishness  _ for himself.

No. Send the apprentice.

Only... Zigoola's treasures were desired by more than one, apparently.

Obi-Wan.

The last seven years had been kind to Obi-Wan's form, giving him the last of the beauty that was his by nature. There were scars, too, vicious ones, proving  _ survival _ .

Not that Obi-Wan's continued existence surprised Anakin, knowing firsthand the lengths Obi-Wan would go to, to survive.

Obi-Wan spun around, saber still unlit but held ready, his eyes glaring, even before he saw Anakin and turned deathly pale.

_ Scared of me still? _

“So the Temple is yanking you around by a chain too,” Anakin spoke up.

Obi-Wan didn't say a word.

“I heard you'd reached full Darth.  _ Lord  _ Kenobi.” Anakin bowed, feeling just a bit bitter about it.

_ Could I have reached that status in this time, if I hadn't had to go from teacher to teacher just to scrape together knowledge? _

Still. Obi-Wan may have stolen Anakin's apprenticeship, but...

_ He would have worked hard, given it everything he has, to get where he is now. _

Stealing didn't mean Obi-Wan had been lazy in the last seven years.

_ If one ignores what he did to me, he earned this. _

The scars alone said that much.

“Do you intend to kill me?” Obi-Wan asked, and there was an awful knowledge in his eyes.

_ Even with seven years of trying to make himself the best Sith he could possibly be... _

_He still knows that in a duel, he would die._

_And he knows he would fight desperately to his last breath to keep his life._

Or in any other way he could.

“I  _ loved  _ you, and you betrayed me. Betrayed me from the  _ very start, _ ” Anakin hissed, the hurt and fury that hadn't seemed to dull with the years roiling back to the surface. “You could have just said  _ no,  _ and died like a  _ man. _ ”

“I wasn't going to  _ lose my chance  _ for everything I had  _ ever wanted,  _ just to  _ defy  _ the first bully initiate who came my way,” Obi-Wan snapped in return. “You think you were the  _ first  _ to demand something of me? Those who I  _ could  _ defy, I  _ did.  _ I killed them, before they had a chance to touch me. You were something else. Like a sun compared to a candle.”

“Lord Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan stiffened still further as a woman stepped out of the hallway and joined them. She wore an Imperial-looking uniform, but without any rank designations.

_Not part of the military structure, then?_

Blond, well curved, blue-eyed...

And in a Sith Temple  _ with  _ Obi-Wan?

“Who is this, then?” Anakin demanded. “She's Force-deaf as a post. Is she going to continue your bloodline?”

Obi-Wan stared at him as if he'd gone mad. “Did you listen to a word you just said? The answer is in your words.  _ Of course  _ I wouldn't do something so  _ uncalculated to succeed— _ no, worse, calculated  _ to  _ fail. You say you  _ loved  _ me, but you don't even  _ know that  _ about me, even when it's the thing that hurt you the most?”

The woman's eyebrow arched. “Lord Kenobi, do I help you kill him, or does he kill me, or do  _ you  _ kill me? Or do you kill him, then me? This room seems filled with one giant heap of liabilities for your ascent to ruling the Empire.”

“Satine—”

“Is she your  _ lover _ ?” Anakin burst out, hardly able to see for pain, now. “You couldn't keep me because you were  _ too pure a Sith,  _ but you can keep  _ her _ ? Why? Because she's not a rival, or because she has nothing you want to take from her besides what she's ready to give?”

Obi-Wan's gaze fell on sigils on the floor. His fearful, pained, determined expression cleared, and then his saber was ignited and thrust back, impaling the woman standing there without Obi-Wan once looking back.

He jerked the blade free and she collapsed over the letterings.

Anakin reeled in shock. “Are you a  _ droid _ ?” One of his hands sank desperate fingers into his own hair, as he stared at the woman convulsing out her life on the floor, abandoned by a man who'd— 

_ Done something so very similar to me— _

“Are you  _ capable  _ of feeling love?” Anakin demanded.

Obi-Wan glanced to the sigils, and Anakin saw blood was draining from a wound that by all rights should have been cauterized, filling the letters and making them glow.

_ Aw, great, some sorcery kar— _

“Perhaps this is enough for me to survive.”

Anakin could practically see power surging into Obi-Wan's body, but he could also sense...  _ agony,  _ inside. “Yeah? Because killing those close to your heart grants  _ power _ ? Is that  _ why  _ you let people get close?”

Except Obi-Wan was moving, saber slashing, and it was all Anakin could do to survive the next few moments.

 

_* * *_

 

It had been a long shot. And... far overdue.

And it felt like he had stabbed himself, and he already felt filled with something that wasn't regret, but functioned very similarly. He wasn't sure he would have what it took to make that decision again, however necessary it had been, and he could hardly be described as being  _ sorry,  _ but he certainly  _ felt  _ how empty his bed would feel, how cold his home, how  _ silent,  _ on these hunts into ancient areas in search of power.

Except survival and power were  _ all  _ that mattered.

A grim, sardonic Mandalorian with three available holes wasn't anywhere  _ near  _ on the list—

But already the strength lent him by the betrayal was easing away, and Anakin's reluctance seemed just as burned away.

And then Obi-Wan's saber was destroyed and he lay on his back beneath Anakin, the emitter of a saber pressed up under his jaw so hard that his head was tipped back and his spine burning.

Except now Anakin crouched there, pinning him, growling, and Obi-Wan found he'd had  _ enough. _

“Do it, then!” he shrieked in fury and loss. “ _ Fripping kill me _ !”

Anakin scowled back, his thumb caressing the switch, but not pressing. “Why did you kill her?”

“Then let  _ me  _ up and  _ I'll  _ kill  _ you! _ ”

“I don't think you will!” Anakin yelled back into Obi-Wan's face. “Because you had seven years to arrange all kinds of accidents for me, but  _ nothing ever came.  _ You didn't kill me, but you  _ did kill her.  _ Why? Weren't we both the  _ same _ ? You were taking until you had what you were after, and then betrayal, but she's  _ dead on the floor,  _ and I'm  _ alive _ !”

“Just  _ get it over with _ !”

“I never wanted to  _ kill you,  _ I just wanted to know if  _ any of it was real! _ ”

“ _ Real _ ?” Obi-Wan choked a laugh that was something near a sob. “What do you think people  _ are _ ? What do you think a  _ Sith  _ is? What do you think  _ I am _ ? Everything you  _ think you know  _ about me is a  _ lie, _ just like  _ every other person in the galaxy.  _ Everyone's core is this viscous, putrid mass of needs. The first is personal survival. The second is  _ keeping your shit,  _ and acquiring  _ more  _ of it _. _ In your case, the shit you want to keep are  _ people  _ close to you.  _ My  _ shit is  _ power.  _ You can't  _ fathom  _ what I would do to  _ get what I want,  _ because you think  _ your wants  _ are somehow  _ noble  _ because they're  _ people focused.  _ It's still just what you want, but somehow  _ you  _ are better than  _ I  _ in your eyes. You would betray anyone to  _ keep your shit,  _ the  _ same way I do,  _ but you  _ revile  _ me for it.”

“ _ Love is not about keeping shit! _ ”

“ _ The frip it isn't! _ ”

“Love is  _ beautiful,  _ you wretched—”

“Only if it's  _ selfless,  _ dumbass. Are you ready to turn  _ Light _ ?”

Anakin's horrified and disgusted expression settled that one.

“You know why the Light is weak? Because it doesn't put yourself  _ first.  _ You'll never get as far, if you're unwilling to do whatever it takes to  _ take what you want  _ from those who  _ have it.  _ You had an apprenticeship, I wanted it, so I  _ took it from you. _ ”

“Yeah? And what if I  _ want sex from you,  _ so I just  _ take it _ ?”

“You wouldn't be the first!” For a long moment they simply kept still, panting and glaring into one another's eyes. “But you  _ would  _ be the first to think it had anything to do with  _ love. _ ”

That disgusted look crossed Anakin's face again. “I'm not going to do that to you.”

“ _ Why _ . You're not killing me, you're not fripping me, so what  _ is  _ it you're after? If it's not revenge and it's not  _ making me yours again  _ because how dare your shit get up and  _ leave you. _ ”

“Would you  _ stop calling yourself my shit?! _ ”

“ _ Frip you _ ! You act like I did something hideous because I saw you as a means to an end. You're the same way, except the end you sought was feeling  _ warm  _ and  _ sated  _ and  _ special  _ and  _ treasured  _ and  _ good about yourself  _ because you treat one token person  _ well  _ and their respect and adoration make you feel  _ good.  _ You think love is something  _ more  _ and  _ other  _ and  _ transcendent,  _ but it's  _ all the same.  _ You like being in love because it makes you feel special, and feel important, and feel  _ less badly  _ about who and what you are. So of course you would do anything you could to  _ keep  _ it. Kill, steal, bring flowers, candles, sacrifice short term comfort to ensure long term your  _ special shit  _ stays with you and continues to make you feel important.”

“ _ Stop!  _ You  _ say  _ those things, but  _ I'm not dead,  _ and  _ that woman is! _ So maybe  _ she  _ has good reason to believe you, but  _ I fripping don't! _ ”

“Give me your saber and I'll make you a believer,” Obi-Wan hissed.

“You're so full of  _ hate  _ and bitterness, is happy even a  _ thing for you _ ?”  
“Everything you feel except for hate is transitory. It's here, it's nice, it feels good, and then it  _ leaves  _ you, and you become  _ addicted,  _ chasing after  _ all of that  _ instead of what you  _ want.  _ It turns you into an emotional addict, forever going  _ nowhere  _ because you're chasing  _ fripping flutterflies. _ The only thing that endures, that is  _ still there  _ when happiness and sadness and hope and despair and grief and content go away, is  _ hate.  _ It is your  _ one ally,  _ and Anakin Skywalker, your  _ desperate need  _ for something  _ less true, less real  _ is why  _ you are still an apprentice to some random, pathetic, low-level lord!  _ You will  _ never  _ be the best at  _ anything,  _ because you refuse to  _ work for it _ .”

“I worked for  _ you. _ ”

“To keep me, and by extension, the feelings you're so dependent upon. When we were 'in love' I was all but spewing emotional  _ drugs  _ into the air for you to breathe. If I'm not  _ behaving  _ the way I'm  _ supposed to,  _ then the happiness goes away, and the love becomes something  _ less wonderful,  _ doesn't it. It starts being about herding me back into the behavior I'm  _ supposed to be displaying,  _ or getting rid of me so you can find  _ someone who will. _ ”

“Except I haven't  _ found anyone! _ ”

“ _ Because you're looking for a lightsider and a lightsider would never be stupid enough to fall for you! _ ”

“I'm not going to kill you!”

For a long moment they simply glared at one another, breathing heavily,  _ furious  _ and  _ hurt _ and...

He would never hear Satine's laugh again. Would never see that irreverent glance, without fear and without concern for making him feel  _ respected.  _ She rarely cared enough to challenge him, but she didn't bow to him either. She hadn't been someone he needed to topple to scrape and claw his way a bit farther up the pyramid, or someone to grind under his heel for the same reason.

Obi-Wan's eyes burned, and he couldn't see Anakin anymore, though the man was right above him, emitter still pressing into his skin.

Oh gods, was he going to  _ cry _ ? Was he  _ crying _ ?

“Why are you crying?” Anakin asked, voice rough. “You trying to make me feel sorry for you so I don't kill you?”

That seemed like a reasonable tactic, something that might even work on this particular foe, but Obi-Wan was too  _ tired  _ and in pain to care much at the moment.

He didn't reply.

He just closed his eyes and sagged against the floor.

The other Sith had won.

It gave him the right to do whatever he pleased with Obi-Wan.

“I can't get out of this Temple,” Anakin asserted. “I've been trying, and it keeps throwing me back in. Do you know how to get the frip out of here?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, opened his eyes again. “No.”

“But did you have an idea? Because your woman didn't seem very worried.”

“She walked with death every day; the inexorable mistress was not a personage Satine Clan Kryze feared.” At least that needed to be clear. She'd been a fripping Mando'ad, and—

“You murdered her. To save your own skin.” Anakin's saber pulled away from his jaw. “I can't figure out if you're a coward of the worst sort, or horrifying in just how pure your commitment to  _ self  _ is.”

Obi-Wan didn't really care which of the two opinions Anakin ended up forming. He simply coiled up into a crouch as soon as Anakin moved back, Obi-Wan's gaze searching for something,  _ anything  _ to defend himself with.

Satine's blaster was still in its holster, and his broken saber had a viciously pointed edge, where it had been sheered diagonally—

“You're still trying to figure out how to survive. Or at least how to fight, though you  _ know  _ I'd just win again.”

Obi-Wan's gaze snapped up to him. Anakin crouched on his heels, watching him with a tired, almost amazed look. “I do not give up,” Obi-Wan replied. “I cannot.”

“Because if you do, maybe all of the things you've sacrificed for it will be pain for nothing? Or because the stillness might make you realize that even if you  _ did  _ get whatever it is that you want so much... that the sacrifices were  _ still  _ pain for nothing?”

“I will  _ shape this Empire, _ ” Obi-Wan replied, fire in his voice and burning in his eyes, he could feel the fervor, the lust for power and control. “I will be as—”  _ Emperor.  _ He didn't dare say such a thing aloud; who knew where Vitiate was, or who might turn Obi-Wan in. Vitiate had a hellish way of appearing long after he should have been dead, and he'd been gone this time shorter than most. 

The creature was  _ hundreds of years old  _ already.

He also wasn't bothering to have anything to do with the day-to-day of the Empire, so Obi-Wan's desire could hardly be seen as misplaced. As long as it wasn't spoken.

“I will crush the Republic, enslave the Hutts, take every planet of this  _ entire galaxy  _ and make them bend to my will.”

“And be lonely every  _ day  _ of your life.” Anakin wasn't looking so hostile now, and that confused Obi-Wan. Confused, and made his skin crawl with wariness. What was the betrayed's game? What was he trying to edge Obi-Wan into  _ doing _ ?”

“You're searching me in the Force, like you're looking for some big plot.” Anakin coughed a single, mirthless laugh. “So that makes me wonder if you knew  _ me  _ at all.”

Obi-Wan felt worry entering his expression, especially grimacing around his eyes. He didn't know what this riddle meant, and that felt even more alarming.

He called his ruined saber to his hand and gripped it tight.

It would make a decent poniard.

Men had conquered worlds with less.

“Why do you need  _ so  _ much power?” Anakin asked. “Why is it more important than...  _ her _ ? Than... I was?”

Obi-Wan stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. What  _ shit  _ teachers must Anakin have had in the last seven years?

“I mean, I get the addiction to power. It gets in your blood, and then you want to shove it down the throat of every person who ever looked at you sideways, or treated you poorly, and to force people to treat you with deference...” Anakin shrugged. “And that hunger, that need never lets you go. But how is endlessly running after that part of breaking free?”

“You can't have victory without power,” Obi-Wan replied. The answer was obvious. “And victory breaks chains.”

Anakin shook his head and sighed. “I don't know. You sit victorious over a dead lover, and it looks to me like you've just forged some more links in a new chain weighing you down.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“I think the Sith Code doesn't work. At least, not the way we were taught it.”

“ _ Thousands  _ of years of  _ power  _ prove it works!”

“Thousands of years of lonely, miserable  _ huttholes. _ ” Anakin shrugged. “Name me a  _ happy,  _ successful Sith. The happy ones go nowhere. The successful ones are just...  _ driven.  _ Obsessed. I'm not sure they ever even reach a place of being...  _ just...  _ glad to be where they are. It's always  _ great,  _ I've got that, now lets get  _ more.  _ For following a method that supposedly breaks chains, they only ever seem to find more of them. Force knows I feel like hell most days.”

“What does that have to do with  _ anything _ ?” Obi-Wan asked, bewildered. “ _ Life _ is hell _.  _ You win by scrabbling your bloody way to the top of the pile and kicking the faces in of whoever might try to displace you.”

Anakin shrugged. “Sure, but  _ why?  _ If it's all hell anyway, why not find someone in the pile of misery who makes you feel good, and then hunker down in the filth and blood and steal those moments of happiness as you wait for the inevitable end?”

_ “He has a point, you know.” _

Obi-Wan physically recoiled, on his feet, braced, shaking,  _ horrified— _

She'd died in a Sith Temple.

It would be just his luck—

“Oh my Force,” Anakin murmured in a half-hearted curse beneath his breath. “That's your Mando, isn't it. She gonna kill us now, before we get out?”

The voice hmm'd, sounding whimsical, capricious.

Obi-Wan grit his teeth and cringed.

No, no. No no nonononononono.

“I do have this urge to make someone here rather miserable, but he's so broken inside I almost don't think it's worth it. You're right, Lover Who Came Before Me, he's wretched miserable, this one. An excellent Sith.”

“But passion—” Anakin protested—

“Is but a means to an end, and a very  _ early  _ means in the ladder, isn't it, Lord Kenobi. Passion is the lure, the entry point. But passion is  _ only  _ valuable to gain strength. Just as strength is  _ only _ valuable to gain power. Being strong for strength's sake is pointless;  _ passion  _ for passion's sake is likewise pointless. The only thing that matters is breaking those chains. And while so many of you see the chains as literal, or as metaphors for superiors or systems telling you what to do... your chains are in your fripping heads and hearts. And you'll never break free of those. Come along, I'll show you the way out of the Temple; I happen to be able to see it now. Obi-Wan, be a dear, and put your cloak over my corpse, at least. I don't want to have to see it every day for the next thousand years.”

Obi-Wan did as asked with shaking fingers.

He followed  _ her  _ voice's instructions as she guided them past trap after trap, and then they could  _ see  _ the entrance.

“Wait,” she commanded, and both Sith froze. “You're going to die, you know. Sith try so hard to be  _ remembered forever  _ afterwards, but after a certain point, no one really gives a shit. Look at all the Rakata did and enslaved and  _ created  _ and changed, and other than fripping archaeologists, does anyone really give a  _ damn _ ? Power's all well and good, and the chains of mind can drive one mad, but chasing all of that never does any good. It's a frantic race and battle and then death. You know, the thing that claims us  _ all,  _ at one point or another, chains or no.”

Obi-Wan's grip on his broken saber loosened.

“You are tired of fighting, Obi-Wan.”

“I refuse to give up because of that,” he replied. “I refuse to be nothing, I refuse to be worthless.”

“Psh. So did I. And I'm a fripping corpse on the floor, so look how far it got me. At the end of the day, you'll be just like me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. A corpse on some floor. And as soon as your pulse stops, all anyone's going to care is how they can carve up what was yours to make it part of _theirs_. Your empire, your power base, your possessions, your _accomplishments,_ whatever's in your pockets, maybe even your bones _._ And this Skywalker is a joke. I can see strange things from here.”

“ _ Hey _ !”

Obi-Wan simply arched an eyebrow in his direction, feeling bitter and worn and pained and just, maybe, a little... fond?

Anakin had always been so warm-hearted, so willing to  _ trust,  _ it had been so  _ foolish  _ and pointless and a ball and chain around Obi-Wan's ankle when he needed to  _ swim  _ to escape the cold waters of nothingness and helplessness, dammit—

“Now get the frip out of my Temple. There's other spirits here, and I'm going to  _ fripping  _ be Mand'alor.”

Anakin's face scrunched in bewilderment. “But didn't you just say that chasing power—”

“You thought I had an  _ answer _ ?” scoffed the voice back. “You want an  _ answer,  _ you go to a  _ Jedi,  _ moron. My people chase glory— read conquest— and honor— read blood— and food and sex. The  _ priorities  _ might be subtly different from the Sith, but the execution is remarkably similar. I've planted my banner here, this Temple fripping  _ be mine. _ ”

“But... you're the  _ most  _ recent person to get here?” Anakin protested, one last time.

“Fenel, Basilisk, Koorivar, Cathar,” Obi-Wan listed. “Mandalorians find a peaceful planet, then wage war against its people, beat them to a bloody pulp, sometimes to the point of the extinction of an entire species, and then move on to the next home of primitive beings. They're fripping barbarians, Anakin. What did you expect from her?”

Anakin looked to Obi-Wan and for the first time there was uncertainty in Anakin's eyes.

_ You are not meant for this life,  _ Obi-Wan realized.  _ For the blood and the stealing and the betrayal and the rage. _

“What  _ do  _ you want?” Obi-Wan asked, and he found that this time, he actually wanted to know.

Sudden tears obscured the eyes looking at him. “I want to be happy,” Anakin whispered. “Just... happy.”

“You do realize that to be  _ happy,  _ you have to experience  _ contentment  _ in some  _ good thing  _ or situation you have in the moment? Contentment is a  _ Jedi  _ trait? A  _ light side thing. _ ”

Not to mention contentment could undo a Sith in  _ days. _

Without the burning need to burn and pillage and  _ take, take, take... _

It would stop. The momentum would die.

And without _someone_ taking drastic action to restart that fire....

The Sith would never take a step forward  _ again. _ Would just... live  _ there,  _ in that  _ happiness,  _ maybe even  _ fail being Sith entirely,  _ maybe even....

Lose hold of the darkness...

“So be it.” Anakin shrugged. “The Empire's never really given me anything I care to spend the rest of my life paying back in my blood. The Jedi take in former Sith. Lord Praven has found shelter there, Darth Sajar— and even a child of the Emperor, Kira, has found refuge—”

Obi-Wan's heart wrenched in horror and agony, and he stared at Anakin, realizing this hurt almost as much as killing Satine. “What?” he whispered.

“I want happiness, and if I have to learn how to be content when I have something good, how to fight for more but value what I've already got? Even if that's a Jedi trait, then damn it all, I'm gonna  _ learn  _ it. Because I don't  _ want  _ to be you in ten years. I've been working so hard to make Darth, but I don't  _ want  _ to be like you. And I don't give a kark about the Republic, and I don't really care to be a Jedi, but sure, I'll learn. And if it requires spilling some Imperial secrets to get that teaching, fine. The Sith have screwed me over  _ every time  _ they possibly could, it would be a  _ pleasure  _ to frip them right back. They have always hated me for being peasant blood, for not being  _ the right birth,  _ and I'm really having a hard time remembering if I owe them.”

“You would throw  _ everything away _ ?”

“Everything that is not making me happy, for a chance at finding happiness? Hell, yes. And if you weren't so lost in power addiction, you would too.” Anakin looked at him for a long moment, and  _ pity  _ entered that expression, and it made everything in Obi-Wan coil and writhe. “Goodbye, Obi-Wan. I needed to know how you live with yourself, with all the things you've done and do... but I know the answer now. You don't. You don't  _ live.  _ You just... are your own death, walking around and breathing. One day someone will get you, and your breath will still, and time will have caught up with what was already real. Life is more than what you can  _ amass,  _ so no matter how much you  _ take,  _ you will never live.”

Anakin strode for the entry, and stepped out into the sun.

Obi-Wan stared after him, and nearly wanted to scream from the misery and  _ hell  _ in his own mind. All Obi-Wan found he  _ could  _ do was watch Anakin go, until he disappeared into the sickened trees and vanished from sight.

“Do you want to stay?” Satine asked.

“In in this dilapidated  _ tomb _ ?” Obi-Wan reacted, disgust so strong it wrinkled his nose and shook his arm.

“There is power here.”

“You can have it.”

And Obi-Wan Kenobi walked away.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Obi-Wan found himself limping, for though Anakin hadn't killed him, he  _ had  _ beaten the Inquisitor severely. Obi-Wan had been able to ignore the pain—some of it he hadn't even felt— as a gift from the adrenaline and mental shock of losing Satine, but now it was all seeping through.

In a bit of a fog, he almost didn't see his apprentice running for him until she crashed into him with a tight hug, making him hiss with pain.

She pulled back, golden eyes scanning him while worry clouded around her in the Force. “Did that other Sith I saw leave do this to you? He was clothed like an apprentice!”

“Don't get any ideas,” Obi-Wan growled.

She sent him a snarky look that clearly meant he was an idiot, she wasn't going to  _ betray  _ him. “Where is Satine?”  
Again that pain, searing through his chest and throat. He breathed for a moment, then looked her full in the eye.

“It was time,” he said.

Commiseration filled her eyes. “Oh.” Her gaze fell, her head tipped forward, and she stared at her feet, her montrals nearly brushing Obi-Wan's chest. “I'm sorry, Master.”

“None of that.” Obi-Wan reached out, touched her chin gently, guiding her face up. “Because you are not Pureblood, you cannot be perceived to be weak. You  _ can  _ make it to the top, but you have to be ruthless to get there.”

Ahsoka sighed, just a bit. “I know, Master. I'll do better. But I liked Satine.”

It became just a little difficult to see her.

“I did too,” Obi-Wan whispered, and then he turned to limp for the ship.

While it seemed a bit absurd, she put herself under his arm to try to help...  _ support his weight.  _ Their height difference made that doubtful to work at best, and ridiculous at worst, but...

He rather needed her there, so close, within his defenses—

She could slip a knife between his ribs and there would be nothing he could do to stop her.

Except....

She wouldn't. Because she had a fierce loyalty to  _ him. _

Which while convenient for  _ him,  _ if he wanted to use apprentices to expand his power base, was also  _ crippling for her. _ And Obi-Wan hadn't  _ taken  _ her on  _ just  _ to have an extra henchperson to do his bidding, but to make her an  _ excellent Sith. _

They would have to talk.

Again.

 

* * *

 

The Academy had been hell.

Ahsoka had suspected it was for everybody, if you weren't a Sith Pureblood of the  _ right  _ bloodline, and with  _ enough  _ power in your own blood.

She had power. She didn't have to find ways to compensate, like her Master did, but she knew better than to think he didn't have plans in place, to protect him should she betray him.

He hadn't gotten to where he was because he was  _ unable  _ to ensure he came out on top.

Ahsoka had hated the Academy, and the day a Darth showed up looking for an apprentice, as usual, she'd been sent into the tombs to retrieve more artifacts, with only a thin attempt to pretend that had anything  _ other  _ to do than keeping her, the disgraceful alien, out of sight.

The Empire's Sith were ninety-seven percent Pureblood, and the rest were mostly human. It was only because the last war had thinned their ranks tremendously, that now  _ any  _ Force-sensitive was allowed to enter the Academy. They needed numbers, couldn't afford the snobbery of decades past.

Ahsoka  _ did  _ want to succeed in the Empire. She wanted to expand the Empire's borders, bring strength and glory to her home. But she also hadn't expected to have a dark lord of the Sith go wandering around down in the tombs, to observe the apprentices who the Overseers thought were safe from being seen.

Ahsoka had stared up at him, wondering what it was he was looking for in an apprentice. Many lords simply wanted strongarms; and when the apprentice could stand it no more, and had learned as much as they possibly could from the begrudging pieces doled out  _ just  _ often enough to keep them thinking more might come in the future...

The apprentice would try to kill the master, and would either succeed because they'd learned from other places than their master too, or died, and the lord took on another person who would work  _ hard  _ for absolutely no pay, in the hopes of learning the secrets of power.

But those lords didn't have to expend so much  _ effort  _ to find apprentices.

This was...

Unusual.

Ahsoka had stood at attention and watched him

She'd been stunned when he announced she was his apprentice. Stunned, and wary.

Over the first month, though, that melted away.

He  _ actually trained  _ her. She'd been more warrior than inquisitor, but now she was learning elements from  _ both  _ sides, and in battle, she gladly protected his back. He was the first being  _ ever  _ to treat her  _ well,  _ and that included the family she'd left behind to join the Academy.

Satine had been wonderful, too. Funny and bitter, at ease and under no false assumption of where this would all end.

She had mentioned it to Ahsoka, gravely, early on, that the connection between her and Lord Kenobi could only end one way: with one or the other dead. That it might end up being Kenobi, and that though Satine would understand if Ahsoka sought revenge, in that case, Satine would fight her too.

It had been some time later that Obi-Wan had drawn Ahsoka into his library and explained, gravely, why Sith could not allow lovers to get too close, and had to end it, at some point, with the blood of the one they laid...

And that he fully expected Satine to fight back, at that time, and if she figured out he'd made up his mind to do it, she might preemptively kill him.

Which would be the smart thing to do.

Ahsoka had stared at him, wondering if he would ever  _ actually  _ do it.

Today...

He had.

Ahsoka swallowed the lump in her throat that the loss of their housemate caused.  _ But I  _ will  _ be an amazing Sith. I will do him proud, I will. _

He had taken her in, taught her how to unlock her own power, showed her, day by day, how to maneuver the political waters of the Sith Order and Empire and Military— because that wasn't an  _ option,  _ in the Empire; if you ignored or fumbled your way through, you ended up forgotten forever on some backwater torn by civil war— and when he looked at her, he saw who she  _ was,  _ didn't get hung up on the fact she wasn't Pureblood.

“Why do we fight for the Empire?” was his unexpected question when they were halfway to the ship.

His tone made it seem less like a quiz than she would have preferred.

“Because it's our home; because it's  _ strong,  _ because when glory is brought to the Empire, it's brought to  _ us,  _ and because we can work our way to the top levels of power, and that power will  _ mean something.  _ In the Republic, even if you're really high up, you can't do  _ much;  _ there's too many checks and balances; almost no one has  _ real power. _ ”

“Let's say I do reach the Dark Council. There is still constant infighting, maneuvering, and petty sabotaging that goes on there. I would be one of twelve; and while I would be free to do what I liked with my power base... I have  _ that  _ already. A larger power base, yes, but also countless beings simply trying to  _ take  _ my place. Anything I might want to do would be blocked and countered and undermined by the others on the Council, because they too will hate me for my lack of power.”

Obi-Wan stopped moving so Ahsoka paused as well, trying to see his face and wondering where all of this was going.

“You could... take control of the Council,” she replied, a bit hesitant, her voice very low.

You didn't speak of the Emperor ill, even in the middle of a wilderness.

“All of it... is rather more petty than glorious, Ahsoka.”

It was baffling, but... “Do you want to do something else? A military career?”

There were a great many Sith who fought in the wars, who worked their way up, up, up, had fantastic amounts of reach and influence—

“I know I'm supposed to hate the Republic, but I really don't give much of a kark.”

That felt... a bit shocking... but...

_ I mean... who  _ does  _ care what they do over there? _

Yes, the Empire had been hiding on Dromund Kaas for centuries, waiting to attack  _ to take over the Republic,  _ specifically, that was the  _ entire point,  _ but then...

That was a plan set up by the Emperor.

Who was missing. And not bothering to help in any way, shape, or form.

_ Screw— _

She shuddered in fear, unable to finish the thought, and hoping the beginning of it wasn't enough to have her marked for vengeance later.

“Eternal war should make the Sith Empire stronger, but it hasn't. It's drained our resources, deepened the ingrained social tiers that keep us from being effective, this is hardly  _ conquest,  _ it's... maybe not even fending off stagnation.”

“You want the war to be more effective, then?”  
“I want the war to have more  _ purpose.  _ Sith wage war not to  _ win  _ it, but to  _ gain strength  _ through the conflict. The weak die, and those left are stronger, having more understanding and knowledge and power than they did before. The Dark Council wants to win and then be done.”

Ahsoka stifled a sigh.

The image of herself tiny and old and shriveled and  _ still fighting the same damn war  _ didn't seem...

All that great.

Maybe once she'd felt the rush of power enough, though, it would look better. It's not like she'd seen much of combat so far, and certainly not much of  _ victory. _

Which apparently felt really,  _ really  _ fripping good.

“Okay,” she agreed. “But if you don't find that  _ here,  _ where would you?”

Obi-Wan pulled his arm back, turned to face her, still holding his broken saber... a weapon that almost looked  _ more  _ dangerous now, with that newly-made lethal stabbing edge.

“I think I know where to look. But if it works, we might be... I might be... branded a traitor.”

Ahsoka's eyes flew wide. “Holy  _ frip,  _ Master, where are you thinking of  _ going _ ?” Her voice dropped to a hissed whisper, “ _ the Republic? _ ”

“ _ What _ ?” he snapped, shocked and horrified. “No! Do you remember the last war? Who sacked Coruscant and burned the Jedi Temple, who seized the very heart of the Republic and brought it to its knees?”

“Darth  _ Malgus _ ?” Ahsoka asked, knowing he didn't mean the lord who had  _ claimed  _ the victory, from the safety of his ship way up high, but instead the Sith on the ground, then one who actually fripping  _ did  _ it. “How is that treason? He's Imperial, through and through. So much so, he was furious when the Treaty was signed. Bet he's really happy, now that it's open war again.”

Obi-Wan shifted, just a bit, clearly uncomfortable. “There are... hints to be seen. That the Dark Council feels threatened by him. And some of the things he has said... I'm going to go to him, Ahsoka. You do not have to come.”

“What does  _ that  _ mean?”

“If I'm right, and Malgus is moving to...  _ remake,  _ to reach the heart of what it is to be Sith... then the Empire as we know it will want my blood. You will need to distance yourself from me, as far as you can get. Perhaps apprentice yourself to Darth Marr, or Vowrawn—”

“ _ What _ ?” Ahsoka blurted, anger sparking inside her. “You think I would  _ leave  _ you? You think Malgus is going to topple the Dark Council and make a stronger Empire, one not crippled by in-fighting, and you think I want to sit on the  _ sidelines?! _ ”

“Apprentice—”

“I would follow you into  _ hell,  _ Master. I would follow you through fire, and terror, and  _ death,  _ and you think I would  _ not  _ stand by you if you were labeled a traitor.”

“Malgus does not follow an Emperor who has been silent. He follows the Code. I expect life near him would be brutal.”

“If that's where you want to go, then let's do it.” Ahsoka's heart pattered faster in terror. Defy the Emperor?  _ Kick over  _ the Dark Council? Oh, gods, they were going to  _ die,  _ weren't they?

“I have sacrificed too much to reach the Dark Council only to have my power be limited,” Obi-Wan asserted. “I refuse to settle for that.”

“Then let's go get you power, Master.” Ahsoka reached for him, placed a hand on his arm. “You know I will follow you.”

That frustrated, fond expression touched his face. “You have to separate your destiny from mine, Ahsoka. You were not  _ meant  _ to always follow. You need to seize power  _ for yourself,  _ not continuously bolster  _ mine.  _ You only need me as long as you require me to be there to shield you from Darths you cannot resist yet... until the point when your own power base is such that you  _ can— _ ”

“Yes, yes, every Sith for themself,” Ahsoka repeated. “Just tell me this, does Malgus hate aliens?”

“No. And that's one of the things he's said publicly, that has drawn ire and contributed to him being rather... outcast in the higher social circles. He has criticized both Korriban and the Dark Council for overlooking critical, useful allies for the sake of navel gazing.”

Ahsoka's eyes widened further. “He's still  _ alive _ ?”  
“He has power, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan replied, voice grave. “And he might have an army.”

Ahsoka shrugged. “Then why prop up this ridiculous state of affairs any longer? Let's go.”

After a long moment, he gave up, hobbling the last few meters to the ship, Ahsoka by his side.

_ As it should be. _

And if it was power, influence, holding the life and death of millions of beings in his hands that Obi-Wan needed...

_ Then we'll get that for you. _

Maybe along the way Ahsoka would figure out what she wanted for herself.

 

* * *

 

It was Praven that Anakin tried to locate first.

He was successful in hunting him down, but when he approached, he nearly received a faceful of saber.

“Who are you, hunter?” Praven asked, a proud Pureblood who carried himself with dignity and grace.

“I am a Sith who is rather sick of the Empire's eternal backstabbing. I want to learn what contentment is.”

Praven watched him, his golden eyes narrowed. “Contentment?”

“Listen, everybody knows about your family, your bloodline. It's ancient, and its code has always been honor and integrity. I want to know why a man of honor and integrity turned to the Jedi, and why they  _ accepted  _ him.”

The saber tip dipped down into a casual-appearing fools' guard, but Anakin knew better than to think that was truly an opening. Still, it wasn't openly threatening Anakin anymore, and that was nice.

“My master and lord, Darth Angral, is a man who follows his own whims.”

“Is that not part of what it means to be Sith?”

“Following passion is but a means to an end.”

_ Oh, gods, you sound like Obi-Wan.  _

“Angral has power and influence within the Empire, and I served him well for years. I trained his son. In return, he expected me to dishonor myself; to obliterate an entire world of noncombatants to take out his one enemy, to break my word if that word was given to a foe, and other cowardly ends. I refuse to have any more to do with it.”

“Was betraying the Empire worth it?” Anakin asked.

Praven shrugged, his saber switching off. “The  _ Empire,  _ I have not betrayed.  _ Angral,  _ I have given to the wolves. He does not deserve his place within the Empire, and I willingly gave information that will lead to his overthrow. My  _ Empire,  _ I have not betrayed.”

“But the Jedi let you walk around?”

“They have proven themselves to be opponents with  _ honor.  _ A sneak attack against them would be vile and cowardly for me to enact; I will not be party to such a thing. And I would know more of their beliefs; the Jedi I have met have had integrity and strength, something I had been taught to not believe possible, so I desire to know where it came from, within them.”

“Did you find out?”

“Not entirely, yet. But I begin to suspect the light is not as weak and cowardly as I assumed; it is possible that an Empire with a genuine peace treaty with the Republic would not be a treasonous, compromising thing.”

Anakin stared at him. “An end to the war? Not like the Treaty of Coruscant?”

“Everyone was aware that the Treaty was only a pause, a time to regroup and prepare for the war restarting. If conquest is required to keep the Empire healthy; there are plenty of worlds in Unknown Space to explore. Fighting over the same planets, millennia after millennia, seems to me to both be a waste of resources, and pointless, in the long run. This crazed need to utterly destroy the Republic and every breathing Jedi may be a spectacular waste of Sith time.”

“Do you think happiness is something worth pursuing?”

“Certainly not.”

Anakin stifled the urge to roll his eyes.  _ Great. So even a Sith with  _ this  _ unusual of a— _

“Honor, integrity, truth— these are worth pursuing, and in the pursuit of them, happiness can be  _ found,  _ and enjoyed. I have seen many individuals who betray  _ themselves  _ every day; I have never yet met one like that whose happiness ever runs deeper than the surface that they present to others. I have found enjoyment in taking a pause from accepting orders from madmen, to give time to thinking, discussing philosophy with the new people I have met; and perhaps even friendship, on the part of some.”

Anakin felt his eyes widen. “You have... friends?”  _ Not just allies or resources or temporary liaisons...  _ “Among the  _ Jedi _ ?”

“I have been surprised in my time to find dishonor in places I never expected to find it, and integrity in places it should not be possible to be found. Jedi seek peace, but I begin to think it is not because they fear fighting, or do not wish to expend the  _ effort  _ to fight. And there are those who believe that a strong, sane Empire, and a strong, sane Republic, is the only path to peace. Not a  _ giving up  _ of conflict, but a mutually beneficial stabilization of power. An idea cannot be killed; there will always be an Empire, and always be a Republic, or individuals trying to  _ make  _ one or the other. Instead of focusing forever on each trying to tear the other apart, an alliance would allow  _ both  _ to strengthen and expand. There is a universe out there, awaiting conquest; there is no need to  _ begin  _ with worlds already claimed— both Republic and Empire can grow, and the alliance would allow battered worlds containing noncombatants to recover.”

Anakin shook his head. “Why do you care about noncombatants? You don't know them. They're not people you care about.”

“To kill individuals who could not possibly fight back is not  _ power,  _ young Sith. It is cowardice. Those of  _ bravery  _ fight those who  _ might very well win. _ Not those wherein there is no danger.”

“Do you think love has any meaning?” Anakin asked.

“ _ Love _ ?” Praven looked surprised. “A rather foolish thing to pursue.”

“I keep getting told that. I need to know what... selflessness is.”

Praven cracked a smile, just a tiny one. “If you wish to see what selflessness can be, to the Jedi you should go. You may be surprised by what you find there.”

“I need to know if selflessness can lead to happiness, and what selfless love looks like; I have been told that is what I seek.”

“I will speak with Master Warren Sedoru. I suspect he would like to make your acquaintance.”

“Is this one of those friends you speak of?”

“He just might be.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Anakin stayed out of the war, but he knew Obi-Wan sure didn't.

He was surprised by the news when it first reached him, of Darth Malgus' New Empire. Filled with aliens, non-Force-sensitives,  _ anyone  _ who wanted to fight for the Empire, it sounded almost like a decent place to be.

Except they had no land. Just ships.

And it had nearly all come to naught over Ilum.

The Emperor's Wrath very nearly slew Malgus, grievously wounding him, but two others had intervened, spiriting Malgus and his fleet away, leaving the Wrath foaming at the bit and the Empire furious.

_ The beard looks good on him,  _ Anakin mused, feeling a bit gloomy.  _ I wonder who the Togruta is. _

She looked awfully young, but had seemed quite capable.

_ Could... could he have taken an apprentice? _

And was she simply a means to an end? Would she, too, be discarded when the time came?

_ He meant so fervently to be on the Dark Council... and now he's a fugitive. _

Had he believed in Malgus?

What plan did this entail?

 

* * *

 

Seeing Ahsoka treated like a real person, with respect and dignity, did wonders for Obi-Wan's outlook, and a deep conversation with Malgus had revealed that the man did,  _ indeed,  _ plan to topple the wretched, squabbling monstrosity the Empire had become.

The Emperor's Wrath, though...

Obi-Wan doubted any individual could stand against the Wrath in single combat, unless it was maybe Anakin.

Anakin likely had the power to win, if strength was matched to strength.

Fortunately, if Malgus survived this wound he currently lay seizing under, he would have learned to fight the Wrath in a way other than toe-to-toe.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure why that was such a difficult concept for many a warrior, it was one he'd lived with his entire life.

They were fleeing into Unknown Space for now.

They needed to regroup, needed Malgus to regain his strength.

An Empire was bigger than any one man, and... Obi-Wan might even be able to seize control of this one, say Malgus had succumbed to his wounds...

But Malgus was the soul of the New Empire. The heartbeat. Without him... it would feel empty and meaningless.

So Obi-Wan did not kill him where he lay helpless.

They would hide in the Unknown, and regroup.

 

* * *

 

Twin conquerors stormed through the galaxy, laying waste to Korriban with a mysterious army, burning through worlds, bringing Empire and Republic to their knees.

But instead of an occupation...

The armies vanished, without a trace.

Gone, back into the Unknown, where it had come from.

Anakin was aware of it, of course, the invasion had paused the war, shaken everyone to the core, left everything in question, and worlds burning.

He kept his head down, wanted no part in it.

He did not go with the task force Darth Marr of the Dark Council put together, though Jedi and Republic troopers accompanied him in a cease-fire.

Sith and Jedi, troopers from either side...

They set out to find the Emperor, Malgus, the Invasion, any or all of the three.

 

* * *

 

Malgus was whole again; as whole as he ever was, at least, and drifting out here, nothing had been seen, really.

Still...

Marr's small fleet was easily visible, and the reason for its hunt quite evident, and then came the ships. Thousands of warships, stealing out of the murk, opening fire on Marr's fleet, ripping it to shreds.

Obi-Wan watched from their cloaked vessel, his eyes going wide.

“Do we stay out of it?” Ahsoka asked, and Obi-Wan could not tell if she spoke to her master or Malgus.

“Hail Marr.” Malgus turned to Obi-Wan, fire in his eyes. “This is the day we die.”

Obi-Wan felt a strange rush through his blood. It felt regretful, and as if time had slowed or sharpened so that every second, every breath  _ felt more,  _ and he had never felt quite so... immediate and  _ alive. _

Ahsoka looked alarmed, was asking why would they care if Empire and Republic fell to the navy of ships that stretched as far as the eyes— and sensors—could reach in every direction.

“...it's not _ our _ fight.”

“Because we are Sith,” Obi-Wan murmured, the words thrilling through his blood clear to bone. “To run from a battle because of certainty of death is to deny our very nature. Life is conflict. Difficulty and strife are what hone us and shape us and make us strong; the only way to grow is to test ourselves against things we do not think we will conquer; only that breaks the chains in our minds of fear, and hesitation, and  _ sanity. _ ”

Killing Satine, a conflict he'd thought he could not face, could not draw strength from, and every conflict since, had led to this point, where they could  _ run,  _ or they could  _ stand and fight. _

He'd thought life was about power. Amassing it, wielding it. 

But power only meant something if it unleashed you. Malgus had shown him that.

“If we must die, then we will do it spectacularly. But to stand out of such a contest...” Obi-Wan felt the smile taking over his face, and again that shiver of how thoroughly he felt  _ alive... _

He looked to Malgus, saw similar joy smoldering in those eyes, and Obi-Wan's Emperor must have smiled, because of the creases by those eyes, though his mouth was hidden by the respirator. “Let no one say you lack.”

No one had ever said such a thing to Obi-Wan before, but in the face of death, Obi-Wan found he did not need the words.

Ahsoka watched him, worry in her gold eyes, but with loyalty too. She bowed her head in acquiescence. “I will follow you, Master. Right into hell.”

He reached out, squeezed her shoulder, thought she looked magnificent in her black armor, the tips of her montrals an inch higher than his own total height. She looked like a goddess of old.

Obi-Wan hailed the struggling vessel. “Marr. This is Lord Kenobi, of Emperor Malgus' fleet. We are prepared to offer assistance, should you desire it.”

There was a brief moment of static, and then Marr's voice growled back, “You are traitors; a pack of curs and aliens, and a  _ false Emperor  _ to top it all.”

“I see. Ziost convinced you to want to  _ keep  _ the Emperor you've already got.”

As if Marr and the entire Empire hadn't tried to fight their Emperor on Ziost, to save their holy world, only to have every living thing withered across the entire planet, leaving nothing but ash and ruin.

Malgus' shoulders shook, a single laugh.

He had been saying for  _ years  _ that Emperor Vitiate did not have the Empire's best interests in mind; Vitiate announcing he intended to suck the life from the entire galaxy, all Imperials included, had been a grim horror, but hardly a  _ confusing  _ betrayal.

Marr growled audibly, then conceded, “We will not fire upon you if you choose to make a stand with us.”

Obi-Wan looked to Malgus, who gave a nod.

“Then the New Empire is pleased to stand with you.” Obi-Wan flicked a switch, and out of the emptiness of space beside the beleaguered Imperial and Republic ships, Maglus' fleet appeared.

Malgus opened communications with his ships. “Open fire.”

The surge of elation from the harried soldiers of Republic and Sith Empire sung through Obi-Wan, and he saw Ahsoka's head tilt as she caught it too.

“Our flagship has been boarded,” Marr's voice called. “Anyone you would like to spare to help repel the boarding party? Our soldiers are thinning sorely.”

Obi-Wan looked to his Emperor one more time.

“Go if you will,” Malgus permitted. “Enjoy the blood. Bathe in it. The night is coming. Meet it with rage.”

Obi-Wan bowed to him, and turned to go.

“Master?” a metallic voice spoke up. “Request: I desire to eviscerate meatbags in person, not by ship artillery. Permission to accompany Lord Kenobi?”

“Granted. You have served me well, HK. Die as you see fit.”

Obi-Wan found himself landing a pat on the russet metal shoulder, pleased by the thought of the last battle unfolding with such a stout killing machine by his side.

“Child.” Malgus turned to Ahsoka, and the Togruta froze. “If you wish to flee and live, you will find no competition for the escape pods. No one will try to stop you, I will give the order.”

Obi-Wan paused, found himself unable to look at his apprentice.

“No. I am Sith. I don't really want to die; but I know you don't either, my Emperor. You want to create a new, stronger Empire. But I'm not leaving my master to die alone, and if I have to die, I will face it bravely. I will walk with him until neither of us can walk, and then we'll crawl until we've killed our last foe, and the pile of bodies we leave in our wake will be  _ great. _ ”

Obi-Wan could sense something quieter than delight, but something a very near relative to it, within Malgus. Their Emperor stepped close, reached out one massive finger and brushed it against Ahsoka's chin.

“Then you are Tano, Lord of the Sith. I only wish you had the time to make Darth, for you would be excellent. Now go.”

As they strode side-by-side for one of the landing craft, Obi-Wan felt a strange pang in his heart. “You are no longer my apprentice.”

“I will always be your apprentice.”

“If it were up to me, I might name you a Darth already.”

“Without me proving my own as a Lord?” Ahsoka scoffed. “You're getting soft, Master. I am Lord Ahsoka, I will never be Darth Ahsoka, that would take years more than I have. But it feels pretty good to be a Lord.”

They climbed into the dropship, HK-47 plunked himself into the pilot's seat, and the ship jolted as it launched out.

“You know, it'll be really ridiculous if we get shot down before we even reach Marr's ship,” Ahsoka called over the noise of the engines.

And that had Obi-Wan laughing.

He could not remember the last time he had genuinely laughed. Maybe it had been never.

But he held on to the ceiling hand strap and laughed.

 

* * *

 

Anakin, pulling apart one of the broken Medical Service droids on Alderaan, paused, feeling a chill fall across his skin.

For the first time since hiding from every call to war— Corellia, Yavin, Ziost,  _ now—  _ Anakin felt a chill seize his heart in a cruel fist of doubt and regret.

_ I should have gone,  _ the thought whispered, pinging through his soul.

He turned his gaze to the stars, looking in the direction of the Unknown Regions.

_ Oh, gods, is Obi-Wan tangled up in this? Did he go to hunt the invaders? _

Anakin felt a shiver run down his skin, it felt awful and filled with dread.

If he had known where to  _ go,  _ it might have even driven him into a ship.

But there were no coordinates, no specific direction to head.

Just a terrible feeling that all was about to become horrifically unwell.

Even the moment when he had felt every living thing on Ziost die had not felt like  _ this. _

 

* * *

 

There was blood.

It was singing to Obi-Wan, Ahsoka could tell. He moved like something born to kill, like it completed him, made him utterly, spectacularly whole.

_ Satine would have liked to have been here. _

Their death-casual Mando'ad would have waded in and gloried in its hell.

The hunter-killer droid seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, and kept calling to Obi-Wan to offer up cheerful banter, and something that Ahsoka suspected was humor.

Ahsoka herself did not find joy here.

Maybe going out in a blaze of glory would call to her, if she had lived a couple more decades, but...

She suspected that just wasn't her.

Still.

She was Ahsoka Tano, Dark Lord of the Sith, and  _ whoever the hell  _ these invaders were who stormed into  _ her  _ galaxy and lay waste to  _ her Korriban— _

They would regret killing her, before the end. They would  _ hurt. _

When they reached Marr and began to fight side-by-side, she'd expected it to feel more awkward than it did.

Instead, there was a flash of welcome in the Force from Marr, though his helm hid his face entirely.

Obi-Wan fell in beside him, and they fought with a oneness that almost looked like it had always meant to take place. The darkness thrilled through their blood, and Ahsoka's too, and she knew they adored its call.

To Ahsoka, it was a way of life.

To them, it was near sacred, euphoric,  _ everything. _

Which was why they would give up  _ everything else  _ to keep it.

_ And it's not like I ever expected to die of old age. _

Only one Sith had ever done so: Marka Ragnos.

_ And I may have stepped into treason and heresy and who knows what else by following an Emperor other than Vitiate, but I  _ know  _ better than to think any Sith alive is better than Marka Ragnos. _

So her lip pulled up in a snarl, and her two blades, one crimson, one purple, carved death through the unknown troopers as the ship tried to break apart beneath their feet.

 

* * *

 

They had lost HK.

The droid had gone down happy, delighted, but it still hit Ahsoka harder than she expected.

It's not like she'd spent any time with him...

Until this ship assault.

Strange, how bonds could form in no time at all, when facing death.

Marr and Obi-Wan stood with Ahsoka on the bridge of Marr's ship, now. Seeing the utter obliteration of both fleets...

But not a dent in the wall of mystery ships.

It felt  _ awful.  _ Ahsoka felt anger creeping in. 

They had killed, and killed, and  _ killed— _

And there were just  _ that many more. _

“Do I give the evacuation signal?” a lieutenant asked, quite possibly the last ranking being on ship, through the comm.

Marr turned to Obi-Wan.

There was blood on Obi-Wan's face, and he bore wounds, the dark armor he wore concealed exactly what, but Ahsoka had sensed it when he took hits.

“Die in an escape pod, trying to run away?” Obi-Wan asked, and there was a terrible, beautiful sarcasm on his face.

Ahsoka felt dread.

“You read my mind,” Marr confirmed. “Malgus, do you yet live?”

“But a moment longer. The barricaded door will hold out about that long. I intend to ram the closest vessel ahead.”

“Forcespeed, brother,” Marr replied. “Your right hand had the same thought.”

“I hope you know how honored you are, to die side-by-side with him,” Malgus replied.

Marr's head, once tilted to face the comm, lifted again. “I do.” He cut the connection and lit his saber. “I will hold them off. Darth Kenobi; if you would? Release our last scream of defiance. For both Empires. For the Sith Order.”

Obi-Wan seized the collar of the dead officer in the seat, shoved the corpse out of the way onto the floor, sat in the blood, and flicked the switches needed as Marr strode to the buckling door.

Maybe Ahsoka should have joined him, but she found she couldn't.

Instead, she clipped her sabers to her belt and moved to stand beside her master, her hand gripping the back of the chair until her knuckles paled.

_ So this is what it is to die.  _

She felt utter terror, and an impressive dread.

Obi-Wan held up a hand to her, and gratefully she seized it, squeezing tight, perhaps too tight, perhaps his bones might break—

He squeezed back, and sent the ship hurtling forward.

Ahsoka could see Malgus doing the same.

_ Oh gods. We don't even know who it is we're dying fighting against. _

She looked down at Obi-Wan, whose golden gaze sparkled bright with hate and glee and anticipation and dread of the discovery of the moment of death.

It made Ahsoka feel a fraction better.  _ He doesn't know what will become of us either. _

_I guess we'll find out._

_Together._

She realized it didn't matter that they didn't know who the twin invaders had been, who ran this fleet, who those troopers were, either the droids or the flesh-and-blood beings with the saberstaffs and the gleaming helms.

_ You came after our land, our people, our homes. _

_Pay for it._

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan, Marr, and Malgus face Valkorion, and in which Ahsoka is... Ahsoka, just a Sith.

 

Ahsoka opened her eyes, found her master sitting on the side of the bed on which she lay, looking down at her with watchful eyes.

“Master?” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut, dragged air into lungs that seemed to be protesting, and then opened her eyes and looked around. “We're not dead.”

Malgus and Marr stood, both with their hands bound before them. Ahsoka discovered her own hands to be restricted as well, and her gaze found the locks around Obi-Wan's too.

Ahsoka sat up, realized that their sabers were missing, but they had been left their armor. “How?” she asked, simply. “I saw Emperor Malgus' ship strike, it sheered a hole into— and then the stars were blotted out by fire, ship after ship exploding, they must be linked, the sky was burning, and I knew it was our turn next, to take that whole and undamaged ship before us and it felt—” Ahsoka felt just a bit breathless, even now— “ _ good. _ ”

“Revenge,” Obi-Wan murmured with a sad smile. “Avenging ourselves.”

“It seems this alien was taught well, perhaps even overcoming the handicap of her birth,” Marr allowed.

Ahsoka felt ire boil in her blood.

At one point in her life, such dismissals, such praise— for Marr  _ meant  _ it as a  _ compliment—  _ had felt normal. That was before Malgus. Before Obi-Wan. 

The door slid open, and Ahsoka stood, the instinct almost as fast as Obi-Wan's.

In strode...

_ The Twin in white,  _ Ahsoka recognized. Worse for wear, after Korriban, with a metal arm now, and a mask covering the ruined half of his face.

She felt her lip twist in a smile.

At least he lost something, in taking everything from the Sith standing here.

“It is time to see my father,” the man spoke, his voice deep and rasping. “You must face justice for invading us.”

Ahsoka stared at the evidence clearly screaming that this being  _ clearly  _ didn't think invasions were  _ so bad.  _

Or maybe he was the only one allowed to do the invading. He and his brother clothed in black. Yes. That was probably it. The self-righteous sort.

_ Force spare me. _

She rather wanted to gouge his other eye out.

Obi-Wan kept quiet, waiting and watching the senior Sith.

“Was where we were claimed space?” Malgus asked. “It appeared empty. Who is your father?”

“The Immortal Emperor Valkorion.”

“And his Empire is...” Marr prompted.

“The  _ Eternal  _ Empire. Zakuul.”

“Never heard of it,” Marr replied, tone dry. “Though I suspect it was Zakuul that invaded our homes and burned our lands and slew our people. Unprovoked.”

“We tested your strength,” the invader conceded.

“Well, then,” Ahsoka drawled, unable to help herself, “consider your strength tested in return.”

Obi-Wan sent her a worried look, and Ahsoka closed her mouth, knowing she probably shouldn't have snarked, but  _ frip  _ this guy.

“Your strength has been found lacking, in both instances,” the man murmured, apparently unbothered by her calling him on his banthakark. And also...  _ completely  _ not seeing the point of what she'd said.

Beings in which she could sense the Force prodded her and the other Sith out the door to follow the twin down a long hall with massive windows.

Ahsoka glanced out, then found her gaze trapped. They were far,  _ spectacularly  _ far above where the ground must be. Fog lay below, thick and impenetrable, and towering spires speared through it, none reaching anywhere near this height, but also clearly ginormous. 

_ Oh my Force. _

It matched the fleet that had been vast.

_ What have we stepped into. _

She could sense Obi-Wan's eyes, tracking over everything  _ within  _ the bridge-like hallway. Searching for weaknesses, for anything that could be  _ used. _

Though...

_ The battle is over. The thought of dying in cold blood is awful. _

Any Sith would hate, resent, and rage against such a death.

The doors at the far end of the hall slid open, revealing a room that almost seemed suspended. A path without rails led to a throne on a dais, the throne's back reaching many meters into the air. The room around them billowed out, glass and glimmering metal and  _ vast,  _ and water sparkled on either side of the path, and around the throne, extravagant to an almost absurd degree, and the emptiness beneath the walkway just... falling, falling, falling.

Through the windows could be seen the blue curve of the planet's horizon below.

Ahsoka had never seen the Dark Council Chamber, but she  _ had  _ seen many a palace.

This was....

Bewildering.

The three older Sith had set their shoulders, she guessed they knew they would probably die without any real chance for battle, and were bitter about it, but they also were  _ not  _ about to appear afraid, or awed, or intimidated.

Though Obi-Wan's posture was less about clear aggression.

_ He will wait, see what happens to the others before choosing how to act. _

Ahsoka resettled her clenched jaw, and determined not to mess it up.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was used to feeling like he was tremendously outmatched, every day of his life. The other Sith in the room were  _ not. _

If anyone could figure a way out of here, it would be her master.

They walked between a line of the Force-sensitive guards who held pikesabers, a blue blade lit at the top of each.

Obi-Wan did not look at her, but his voice formed in her mind, near starling her.

_ “If the opportunity comes,  _ live. _ ”  
You don't seriously think we're going to live. _

_ “If the chance arises,  _ live. _ ” _

Ahsoka felt pretty sure that facing the next few minutes with dignity was all she was going to be able to manage, but...

Sure.

If it turned out that this disastrously advanced society  _ slipped  _ for a few minutes, Ahsoka would try to get the hell out of here.

This was no longer a battle in space.

This was...

They walked to the throne, where its occupant sat leaning forward, chin resting on his fist.

He was old, but still wore armor plates along with his flowing robes. A human with pale skin, slate-gray hair and beard, and eyes as golden as any Sith's.

The Twin knelt on one knee before him. “His glorious majesty, immortal master and protector of Zakuul: Emperor Valkorion.”

Marr's head lifted, just a bit, almost as if scenting the air.

“Welcome,” murmured the Emperor, sitting up tall.

His voice was warm, held the same bass growl as his son's, and had a benevolent edge that felt like ice against Ahsoka's teeth.

Marr spoke first. “A new name, a new face... these are not enough to hide from us. The Sith Emperor: your presence is unmistakable.”

_ Oh my gods. _

Was this...

Was this Vitiate, the butcher of Ziost?

Valkorion looked amused. “Oh, I think a mistake has been made.” He nodded, and Ahsoka could sense loyalty, all around. “But by whom?”

“Do these people have any idea who you really are?” Malgus asked. “The kinds of things you are capable of?”

_ All that life down below the clouds... he might just drain it all, like he did Ziost. _

Would these guards be loyal  _ then,  _ Ahsoka wondered?

Even a loyal man like Marr could be pushed too far.

He  _ had  _ been.

Valkorion simply replied, “Do you?”

Ahsoka's blood ran cold. There was something... ancient and without remorse in that voice.

“Your silence across centuries of our history,” Marr spoke up, and Ahsoka could feel his rage, tightly controlled but rousing, “ _ this  _ was your distraction?”

Malgus sent him a sideways glance.

It's not as if  _ everyone  _ had believed the absent Emperor was fit to lead.

That he was playing at guiding another Empire altogether...

_ Marr fought for you, kept faith with you long after everyone else was sure you were dead. _

Malgus hadn't cared if Vitiate were dead or not, he thought he was  _ unfit  _ and should be  _ replaced. _

“This was my  _ focus, _ ” Valkorion countered.

_ Oh gods. He's not even denying being...  _ him.

“Everything else... a means to an end. The Republic is not worth defeating; the Sith Empire, not worth saving.” Valkorion's eyes gleamed bright as he leaned back on his throne before standing, the dais making him so  _ very  _ much taller than anyone else. “You claim to have come all this way to find me. Here I am. What do you want?”

“Since we're here... destroying you sounds excellent,” Malgus offered up.

Valkorion chuckled, and began a slow prowl down the steps to reach them, zeroing in on Marr. “You say you know me. If that is true, then you know the depths of my power. Whatever you hoped to achieve here, you know deep inside that you cannot succeed. But you do not have to stand against me. Instead....” Valkorion gestured, and the shackles fell from the four Sith. “You can kneel.”

Marr took several furious steps forward and declared, “I will  _ never again  _ kneel to you!”

Malgus' expression turned just a bit sardonic. He probably never thought he would see  _ this  _ day, Marr forswearing allegiance to the  _ vaunted  _ Emperor Vitiate.

The son stepped forward, ready to fight, but his father held out a staying hand.

He apparently had more to say.

“You would sooner die than acknowledge my superiority?”

Oh, was _ that  _ what they were supposed to acknowledge? Ahsoka felt every muscle in her body tensing.

Marr stood proud, in spite of being hopelessly outnumbered and face-to-face with a being that jumped physical form to physical form as if a body were merely a convenience instead of a need. “You have gone to  _ absurd  _ lengths to avoid death, century after century, body after body. It is  _ you  _ who fears death, 'Valkorion.' I do not. I  _ will not kneel. _ ”

Obi-Wan was moving almost before Marr did, clearly expecting Marr's conclusion.

Ahsoka ripped one of the pikesabers away from a guard with the Force, hearing the snap of phalanges as the creature screamed. She bared her teeth and snarled, slamming the blade through a chest plate, saw brown eyes within the helmet go wide with agony.

Marr flung guards from the walkway with a sweep of the Force and raced for the Emperor, Malgus at his side, united in purpose here.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ahsoka saw Obi-Wan slaughtering enemies by avoiding their strikes, and using his hands with brutal efficiency, and then light, purple and so bright it made Ahsoka color-blind for a moment engulfed Marr, flinging him down to the walkway, where he slid, leaving a streak of melted skin on the floor as he went.

Ahsoka could hear his bones snapping as the electricity caused his muscles to seize. Fury, agony, silence. Purple light still coiled around Valkorion's hands.

Some woman stepped through the door, had her hand raised—

Ahsoka turned, saw Malgus' feet an inch off the floor, his armor crumpling in on him, his eyes widening in horror as he was crushed to death by his own metal.

Ahsoka turned from him before his fluids began draining out, but her feet did slip a bit, as his blood slicked the walkway.

Her gaze found Obi-Wan just as the twin rammed his yellow saber blade through Obi-Wan's chest.

“No!” she yelped, freezing.

Valkorion still stood, the purple lightning licking around his fingers. The son yanked his blade free and shoved, and Obi-Wan twisted, collapsed face-first, shuddering and clawing at the floor with one feeble hand, trying to drag himself in the direction of the nearest saber.

His presence flickered, his eyes grew murky.

Ahsoka held very still, sensing the rest of the guards, and the woman— dear  _ Force,  _ the  _ woman,  _ who felt like an unstable and vile and.... erratic star, with definite traces of Valkorion's signature— closing in behind her.

She could still feel what Obi-Wan had impressed upon her earlier, so though she wanted to leap for Valkorion, not be left alive  _ alone  _ here, in this terrible Empire...

She stood up straight, lowered the blade of the pike she held, but did not extinguish it.

Silence fell.

Three bodies lay before her, only her master's still clinging to life.

“Clear the room!” the woman demanded, her voice somehow younger than Ahsoka had expected from someone clearly in her thirties. Petulant. “Everyone out!”

As footsteps pounded behind Ahsoka, she felt the full weight of the remaining eyes upon her.

“Why send your new followers out?” she asked.

Right now, these people had no reason to keep her alive.

She doubted pleading or bargaining would help.

But Obi-Wan had commanded her to  _ live,  _ and she would give it a shot.

“They are not like us,” Valkorion replied. “But look around you. Zakuul is poised to become the greatest civilization in the history of the galaxy.”

_ Greater than the Celestials?  _ Creatures made of the Force itself, waging wars across multiple dimensions, countless  _ thousands  _ of beings, until only three were left on a planet that both existed and did not, and could not be found? 

_ Greater than the Rakata?  _ Who had discovered how to warp the Force to shift energy into matter, turning air and fire into machines of unspeakable destruction, and enslaving the galaxy and mastering sciences that modern science couldn't even begin to find explanations for?

The Celestial Empire had lasted for  _ who knew how long,  _ but it had fallen. And the Rakata were reduced to slovering cannibals on an island lost to time, unable to remember how to touch the Force.

Ahsoka could  _ feel  _ the Eternal Empire around her, strong, yes, but not like the hideous tyrants of old.

_ Your time will come. _

She found some of her terror easing, remembering that.

Obi-Wan was silent on the floor, but for his shattered breaths, dying all but ignored where he lay.

The woman alone was watching him, her gaze hungry, as if she fed on his agony and fading presence.

Valkorion descended the last three steps and approached, stepping around Marr's corpse and striding uncaring through Malgus' blood. When he reached Obi-Wan, he crouched down, touched the back of a finger to Obi-Wan's pallid cheek.

“I will heal him,” Valkorion said.

Ahsoka's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “ _ Why _ ?”

“He was once lover to the one man in the galaxy who holds interest for me. I would have this man. It is for that reason I spare you, Child. You will return to your worlds, and tell this man I desire him to come to me.”

Obi-Wan's labored breathing eased into something more steady, and his eyelids shut, though the hole through his chest remained.

“Who is this man?” Ahsoka asked, not at all sure that if she complied, Valkorion would allow Obi-Wan to _ continue  _ living, or that either of them would be free....

But...

Obi-Wan wanted her to live, so she would agree to go.

“He calls himself Anakin Skywalker, and your master once sacrificed him in the pursuit of greatness.”

_ Then somehow I doubt he will come to save him. _

 

* * *

 

 

She found him.

She wasn't sure he entirely believed her tale, but he clearly believed  _ something  _ was terribly wrong, way out there.

He agreed to come.

No argument, no fight, no list of reasons why required.

All she'd said was her master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was on the brink of death, and an insane spirit-Emperor had offered him life in exchange for Skywalker's presence.

It was a long flight, and his ship was... fast, but... looked quite frankly  _ terrible. _

“Don't discount the  _ Twilight, _ ” he admonished, throwing her a sideways glance, even though she hadn't said a  _ word. _ “I've slipped past blockades to visit Jedi in this ship; I've kept out of the Empire's hands, I sure as hell kept out of your master's reach.”

But he looked a bit sad as he said it.

A few hours later, he turned to her, expression pensive, and asked, “Do you know what Vitia— Valkorion  _ wants  _ from me?”

She could only shake her head.

He settled into morose silence again.

“Is he happy?” was what he asked,  _ another  _ two hours in.

“Lord Kenobi?” Ahsoka asked, bewildered by the question. “I don't....”

“Are  _ you  _ happy, being his apprentice?”  
“I'm not an apprentice anymore. In one of his last actions, Emperor Malgus made me a Lord.”

Skywalker scoffed a morose laugh. “Everyone but me, Kid.”

“You're not that much older than me,” she dismissed.

“Aren't you snippy. But that's not the point— are you happy with him?”

She eyed him, wondering what he meant. “He has always treated me with respect. To him, I am  _ meant  _ to become his equal, or his better. He never meant me to be free labor.”

“And he was relaxed about.... you know.” He made a gesture to his own head, a sweep of a hand to mime a montral coming out of his skull.

Had to bring that up, did he? “Emperor Malgus was many things. A speciesist he was  _ not. _ ”

“Traitor yes, speciesist no, good to know priorities.”

“We'll see how loyal you are, once you're face-to-face with your Emperor.”

“Our Emperor.”

“No. Yours. Mine is dead. My only loyalty now lies with my master.”  
“Former master.”

“I will face  _ anything  _ by his side,” she replied, tone brooking no argument.

That should have been the end of it, except he watched her with a different expression, now. A pensive one. “Has he ever screwed you over, to get where he wanted to go?”  
Ahsoka studied him return. “The Emperor said he betrayed you, once.”

“Yeah.” Skywalker looked miserable. “Except... these days I suspect he never saw it as a betrayal, because he never thought what we had was real.”

“You fripped,” she asserted.

He stared at her, aghast. “Blunt much?” he yelped.

She shrugged. “You thought it meant something?”

“I did. And he told me it did too. And then he stole my life, and I was on the run. I don't know that he's capable of loyalty to anything other than himself, Snippy. You might want to watch out.”

“Then why risk yourself to pursue him?” Ahsoka challenged. “Hate him too much to let Valkorion kill him? It  _ has  _ to be you?”

“I need to see him again.”

“Why?”

“I don't even really know. Has he ever betrayed you? Did he show any sign of just using Malgus as a means to an end?”

“No. But Sith serve self first. He was always very careful to let me know I needed to look out for  _ me,  _ and then if I wanted to bother with anyone else, that  _ after.  _ There were some.... difficult lessons along the way.” Satine. The wound that still ached.

“Why didn't he just.... swear allegiance to Valkorion? It was clear Valkorion had all the power in that room, and he offered the option to kneel. Why didn't Obi-Wan just  _ stand back  _ while Malgus and Marr attacked, let them die, and then align with the strongest power— the path to  _ acquiring  _ power? That was the chance of a lifetime for him, I would have thought.”

“He told me to live. It was a command.”

“Then it was a command for you to kneel. And yet he himself did  _ not.  _ He chose death over the possibility of acquiring  _ greater power.  _ And that makes no sense of what I know of Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

She considered that for a long moment. “It does go against many of his teachings. But pride was something he held dear. You should have seen him, in what we thought was our last battle, against the Fleet. He almost  _ glowed.  _ There was this strange link between him and our Emperor, and him and Marr. They fought like they were possessed, like they were agents of Death herself, like they were...” she shook her head. “And there was this fierce...  _ joy _ in him. A hunger to kill and a fervent delight in knowing it was the end, and he was selling his life dearly. He is the Sith I hope someday to be.”

If, you know. Valkorion didn't kill her first.

But even those words weren't enough to describe how he had been, in that hour of desperate, brutal battle. “It was like every chain had broken, that he had found  _ it,  _ you know. The thing every Sith seeks.”

Anakin watched her, but his disbelief lasted but a second before fading away into sadness. He looked...  _ so sad...  _ as he gazed at her.

“What?” Ahsoka asked, put off guard by his eyes.

“Ahsoka... he was fighting side-by-side with a man he'd been trying to overthrow, and with Jedi, all for the same thing. That's when he felt it. Not when he was trying to overthrow the Republic, or overthrow the Empire... he found connection.”  
Ahsoka wasn't sure she believed that. “If that's all it was, then  _ I  _ would have felt it too.”

For a long moment there was silence as Skywalker seemed to think. “He is a cruel man, Ahsoka,” he said at last. “Most of all to himself.”  
She resettled in her seat, not at all sure what to say to that.

After nearly ten minutes of silence, he spoke up, “You do know we're probably going to die, right?”

“Skyidiot,” she remonstrated. “No duh.”

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

He hung there, suspended in an almost-invisible field, head tipped to the side, the hole in his chest so....

Well...

Ahsoka could see clear through him, to the throne beyond.

It made her heart seize up, an awful pain that bordered on physical.

She'd begun to suspect the Skyidiot loved her master still.

Which was lunacy, and if the man hadn't been  _ hiding  _ from all conflict, he definitely would be dead by now.

But...

She, herself, was far from indifferent whether Obi-Wan Kenobi lived or died.

He would give her that look, if he was awake, he would tell her it needed to be  _ Ahsoka first, Ahsoka always,  _ that she had to purge all weakness in order to  _ survive. _

In theory, she should have seen him clawing at the floor, and should have taken her saber, and cut off his head, while she felt alarmed that he was dying, she should have  _ done it herself,  _ should have seized control over her life.

_ But no. I am sorry, Master, I am here again. _

_For my fate to be as yours, whatever that may be._

Anakin was staring up into the still face, and he held such conflict, such regret, such....  _ something.... _

“Welcome, Skywalker,” Valkorion spoke, standing, but keeping to the top of his dais.

The son was to his right, the woman to his left.

“I'm here,” Skywalker said, stepping around Obi-Wan's near-corpse, and taking several steps in the direction of the throne.

Ahsoka noted that the corpses had been removed, and the blood cleaned away.

All that remained were red stains in the troughs of water by the walkway.

_ Farewell, my Emperor. May the Force welcome you with the same fervency with which Mistress Death claimed you. _

Skywalker crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

“I have forged this empire to surmount all of my previous works, to span eternity,” Valkorion explained.

 _Ah. Like the Infinite Rakatan Empire, then._ _That kind of Eternal Empire._

The Rakatans had managed to hold it together for a few thousand years. It was hardly infinite.

_ I wonder how many thousand years it will be when this, too, will fall? How measurable and finite the span of your eternity will prove to be? _

Valkorion was far from done. “The Eternal Throne commands a fleet more vast than any ever built. It has the power to reshape the galaxy into any image that I choose. That  _ we  _ choose. I will share all of this with you, if you will only kneel.”

His gaze was so intent, fixed on Anakin.

Ahsoka watched as Skywalker's eyes widened with shock. “ _ Me. _ ”

“You intrigue me. Every being I see now, I have seen, again and again, through centuries, born with one face then another, a new name every time. Nothing is truly new in this universe, but  _ you.  _ I find you curious. I want to live your life.”

“What exactly does that entail?”

“Your body.”

Skywalker let out a small, steadying breath. “Right.” He turned a rueful, sardonic expression to Ahsoka. “He wants my body, to kick me out into the great nothingness beyond. You know,  _ death. _ Nice.”

“Hardly unexpected,” Ahsoka pitched in.

Skywalker scowled at her. “Helpful, Snips. Very helpful.” He turned to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan looked even more battered and broken from the back than he had from the front.

“You said you could heal him?” Skywalker asked.

“I could.” Though there was a question in the Eternal Emperor's voice as to whether Skywalker would  _ want  _ him to.

“Then I'll accept. If you heal him, you let me say goodbye, and you send him and his apprentice away from Zakuul, never to be hunted by the Eternal Empire again.”  
“Agreed.”

Valkorion reached out a hand, and purple light seemed to coil and burn within Obi-Wan's wound, knitting together what had been torn.

Ahsoka followed Anakin back around to Obi-Wan's front, hissing, “What are you doing?”

“Can't you sense him? He'd just take what he wanted if I refused. This way, at least the two of you get out.”

“The  _ frip  _ is that?” Ahsoka asked, horrified. “Did you turn  _ Jedi  _ out there all alone?”

His shoulder shook once, perhaps a silent laugh. “I learned that fighting for yourself and what's yours can become wearying, after a time. That fighting for something more, someone else... can make you feel alive.” He reached up, his fingers nearly brushing Obi-Wan's cheek, and then Skywalker looked to Ahsoka, a sad smile on his face. “That's what he experienced, in that battle you spoke of. He did not fight only for himself and those who were his, he fought for them all. It broke his chains. Now I'm breaking mine.”

“That's not how chains are broken,” Ahsoka protested, but Obi-Wan was dragging in deep breaths, and she could not focus her attention on Skywalker anymore.

Obi-Wan's eyelids cracked open, and he caught sight of Skywalker's earnest face.

“You fool,” were the first words to cross his lips, barely a whisper, but condemnation all the same. “Why would you come? And  _ you _ ...” he looked to his apprentice, “got  _ away.  _ You should have  _ stayed away. _ ”  _ You were supposed to live,  _ his disapproval seemed to say.

“We know,” Anakin whispered, taking Obi-Wan's head in his hands, his thumbs stroking Obi-Wan's cheeks, so tenderly that it surprised Ahsoka. “She can't bring herself to say it, but she loves you. And I have certainly suffered enough to know that loving you was greatest mistake I ever made. But I also know, that those short years with you, were the happiest I have  _ ever been,  _ and could ever hope to be, so I find I cannot regret that mistake. I may never have been anything more than a staircase for you, but to me, it was  _ real. _ I loved you. And it's foolish, and insane, but I still do. You have used me cruelly, and you were even  _ worse  _ to that Mando, and I don't expect you to ever treat me as anything more than dirt, but I fripping love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dark Lord of the Sith. So when this monster takes my body, you're going to leave here with your apprentice. And you're going to be good to her. You're going to prove that this smart young woman was no fool to give such burning loyalty to you. And you're going to fripping remember that I did not mean you harm. And out of everyone in this whole fripping galaxy, I was the first one like that. The only one. And you've killed the Mando, and your Emperor is dead, and I'm about to be cast out into the depths of the Force so that old creep can have my body, so you're only going to have Ahsoka left. If you kill her or throw her away, you might not  _ get  _ another. So pay attention, this time.”

Anakin sank his fingers into Obi-Wan's hair, and Ahsoka's master just stood there staring at him, lips parted, such a terrible expression on his face. Not sadness, not hate, not apathy, not even shock, though he clearly was overwhelmed and caught off-guard by the words flowing out of Skywalker.

He looked like the younger Sith was saying something hideous, something terrible.

“I don't want you to somehow create fictions about what's happening here, or what I thought to  _ gain  _ from doing this,” Anakin asserted, taking another step in, until the toes of his boots nearly hit the toes of Obi-Wan's. The field seemed to have dissipated entirely, leaving Obi-Wan's feet on the floor, leaving him staring up into Anakin's face. “I chose to die for  _ you.  _ So when you remember me, don't you think I did it to try to gain  _ power,  _ or some such kark. Because I don't give a damn about that anymore. And I think you figured something out, when back to back with a Jedi, Marr, and your apprentice and your king, something that made you do the stupid thing, the thing that would  _ gain you nothing,  _ and defy that smirking old man over there. You chose  _ them,  _ over working your way up through this new, higher power structure, and—” Anakin leaned down, pressed his lips to Obi-Wan's in a ravenous kiss.

Ahsoka eyed the woman, the son, and Valkorion, but the subservient two held still, and Valkorion looked quite content to wait for this to play out, in the knowledge he had already won.

Ahsoka  _ hated  _ that.

This man had acquired  _ centuries  _ more than was allotted to mortals of either Pureblood or human species. He'd stolen the breath from  _ every living thing  _ on Ziost, creature and plant and person, to do  _ something  _ with all that power.

He had no right to it. No right to that much.

Anakin pulled back from the kiss, a vulnerability clear in his face, almost a wary resignation in his eyes, as if he expected his love to hurt him one more time, even here, at the end.

But Obi-Wan said nothing, and perhaps that in itself was more hurt than even Anakin Skywalker was prepared to bear. He swallowed, looked to Ahsoka. “Make sure he gets out of here,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

And then he walked back to the dais.

Ahsoka stood frozen, Obi-Wan beside her, both watching as Anakin came to a stop, shoulders back, head up, posture just a bit insolent.

“Once they're out of Zakuulan space, you get my body.”

“Go,” Valkorion dismissed. “To the left of the far end of the skybridge you will find Skywalker's ship. I trust you will figure out how to fly it.”

Ahsoka nodded, slung her master's arm over her shoulders, and propelled them forward down the walkway in the direction of the door leading to the skybridge.

Obi-Wan did not protest, did not look back.

The pain from Skywalker was a thing that rent the Force, it could not be mistaken, but there was relief there too. Resignation, and gratitude.

_ He is mad,  _ Ahsoka concluded. She had interacted with insane Sith in her time, but this one took the cake.

They had reached the ship and powered it up, unaccosted by the saber-armed guards who simply watched them, when Obi-Wan's hand, flicking switches, hesitated. He turned grim eyes to Ahsoka.

“Why did you attack him, instead of kneeling?” she asked, needing to know. “Why did you stand by your emperor and your nemesis, when there was a clear path to power if you just knelt?”

The intensity of that grim look deepened.

“Is not even putting the good of the Empire before your own needs, in a manner selfless, and perhaps light? Because you believed in Malgus. You respected the hell out of him, you did not think him weak, and when you had a path to something more, you chose loyalty to him instead, and I need to know:  _ do you love Anakin Skywalker,  _ and are we going back for him?”

He bolted out of the chair and flew down the ramp, Ahsoka racing after him. They each took a guard, murdering them and acquiring their pikes, and then they raced back into the skybridge, bodies working in tandem, the Force surging to meet them, and death playing at their heels.

 

* * *

 

“I'm ready.” It was a bold-faced lie, but Anakin Skywalker was tired of running.

Clinging to life for life's sake had proven to be a rather... boring thing, in his experience.

He sank to his knees, but he knew there was still insolence in every line of his body. He couldn't help it. He held nothing but disgust for the butcher of Ziost.

A Sith  _ holyworld.  _ Filled with  _ Imperial citizens.  _ People who would have followed this man anywhere, had he but given the word, and instead...

_ Frip you. _

Valkorion tipped his head back, reached out his hand, and purple light crawled into Anakin's eyes, and slammed into his chest. He gasped, the sensation terrible—

“You are fortunate, Skywalker,” the twin in white said. “I struggled for years, sacrificed everything— even the life of my brother— trying to win such an invitation.”

Is that where the twin in black went? Slain by his brother in an attempt to convince his father he was worthy enough to rule by his side?

Gods, the dark side was so fripping warped, the people who followed it twisting out of all recognition.

_ I think I hate us. _

“You have done what I could not,” the twin said, striding up behind Valkorion, quiet in his golden eye. “In exchange, I will do what you could not.” His yellow blade flared to life, and he stabbed it through the Emperor's back, Valkorion's eyes going wide and the purple light dimming. “You have made your last mistake, Father.”

Valkorion chuckled, though his lips did not move, and the body of the Emperor fell, sprawling on its back before Anakin.

Anakin stared, horrified, because something was still trying to crawl into him, that  _ essence,  _ that  _ person— _

Vitiate had been a Pureblood. Valkorion had been a human.

The fripping spirit had been body-jumping for much longer than this twin had been alive.

Anakin fought, trying to keep it out, but how did one fight something slipping in through the flickers of shadow in the mind, a mist seeping in through the joins of mental shields?

The woman stood by, watching with a curious expression as her Emperor died, clearly not in on the betrayal, but also not particularly bothered by it.

_ You... fripping... _

Obi-Wan better be far away and saf—

The door behind him exploded inward, clanging against the walkway and then must have glanced off because Anakin heard the shattering of  _ so much glass. _

A Force-throw that strong must have been Ahsoka, flinging the fripping doors out of her way.

“The  _ frip are you doing _ ?” Anakin rasped, turning as well as he could while still under assault.

Obi-Wan strode forward, looking every inch the Darth he was, Ahsoka on his flank, death in her eyes.

Obi-Wan paused three-quarters of the way to him, snapped his fingers and spread his fingers in a strange pattern, ring fingers extended, little fingers drawn up, the other varied in a pattern of stiff and crooked claws as Obi-Wan's head tipped back and he jolted, lifting two inches from the floor.

_ Oh my gods. _

The throat clasp of his armor came undone— the cape long since torn to shreds— and floated before Obi-Wan, metal pieces sliding and chinking and unlocking until the small broach opened.

Ahsoka stood guard, pike held ready, watching for assault from before and behind.

Whispers of the ancient language crossed Obi-Wan's lips, guttural, grating, and a dark stain hued his mouth, then meandered forward, brushing into the purple that still lingered around Anakin's chest and wrists and where the darkness touched, a stain began to spread, freezing and cracking until the light shattered from around Anakin, and the pieces, before they ever hit the floor, began to be drawn inexorably to the box.

It wasn't quite enough. Valkorion's essence was pulling away from Obi-Wan's sorcery.

Anakin had no idea how to help, and could not seem to lift a finger from sheer drained exhaustion from having fought so hard for his own mind.

“Oh, you're not getting away, Father,” the woman murmured, her voice...  _ petulant.  _ Young, despite the lines of age and experience that marked her as close to, or past thirty.

Certainly older than Anakin himself.

“You locked me up for  _ years, _ ” she continued, her voice rising with an unhinged fury. “So  _ you  _ try it!  _ Get in there, dragon of Zakuul! _ ” She threw out her hand, and with an inhuman shriek of rage and agony Valkorion's spirit recoiled into the broach and the latches snapped shut and the metal facets covered in lettering shifted all around and then it dropped to the walkway, silent.

The twin looked to the woman, his sister, and seemed to hesitate.

“Blame them for Father's death.” She shrugged. “But after they get his  _ putrid vileness  _ out of Zakuul,  _ away, away, away.  _ Thrown in a black hole, preferably, though  _ no,  _ he might escape that. Bury it in a  _ latrine  _ on some  _ pathetic  _ world in your  _ pathetic  _ galaxy, and Arcann, we explore in that direction no more. Our empire will expand  _ out,  _ not in.” She turned gold eyes to her brother. “For Thexan.”

The rage seeped out of Arcann. Something softened in his eye. “For Thexan,” he agreed. “Vaylin has spoken,” he announced, turning to the three Sith. “Get out of our Empire, and take our father with you.”

Hands were dragging Anakin up, strong hands, and a strong frame all but dragged his down the walkway as Ahsoka covered from the rear, just in case the mad siblings changed their minds.

Anakin tried to lift his head to see Obi-Wan, but found he had not the energy.

“You came back,” Anakin mumbled.

Obi-Wan did not deign such an obvious statement with a reply.

Anakin coughed a chuckle. “Who's the fool now?”

“ _ Seriously,  _ Skyidiot? Don't antagonize him. We've got a  _ lot  _ of bottomless falls on these fripping stupid walkways before you're safe from being just  _ dropped. _ ”

“Snips,” Anakin crowed. “You missed me already.”

She snorted and probably rolled her eyes, but still she guarded their backs.

“You have ruined me, Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said, his voice so low Anakin almost didn't hear it.

And though they had not reached the  _ Twilight _ yet....

Anakin felt warmth bubble up inside him, something that made everything feel like it had been worth it, and what a ridiculous and dangerous and intoxicating feel that was. “That's the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.”

The arm holding him up tightened, and steps quickened, and because of the pain of his feet tangling up, Anakin could not determine whether Obi-Wan was holding him closer, or punishing him.

“You gonna kill me as soon as we're in clear space?” Anakin slurred, knowing that this drained, Obi-Wan wouldn't even really have to try, probably. Just stick him with a knife. Wouldn't even have to try to be sneaky. “Hey... you nearly died to rescue me. Whas' up with that. 'Cuz thassnot what yer...”  
“Do you regret this yet?” Ahsoka called.

“Nope,” Anakin replied, feeling just a bit giddy.

“Not you, dumbass,” she retorted.

_ Just... just let me be with them. I would fight whatever dumb war Obi-Wan wants to fight. I would go to whatever awful ridiculous temple he wants to search for arcane secrets. _

_Just let me walk by your side, let me love you._

_Let me love you._

“You're speaking aloud, Skyidiot.”

“Just let me,” he mumbled again, turning his face as close to Obi-Wan's ear as he could manage while feeling this oxygen deprived and uncoordinated. “Just let me.”

“ _ You  _ are why the Sith Order is coming to pieces,” Obi-Wan muttered back, vicious.

Anakin's eyebrows shot up. “ _ Me _ ? Most of 'um don't even know I 'xist.”

“You as a  _ type,  _ getting distracted by your pettiness and your needs for all these little  _ comforts,  _ and—”

Obi-Wan was muttering on and on, and Anakin drifted on the comfort of his voice so close.

If this is what death fripping was? It was nice. Really nice.

_ Maybe I shouldda tried dying sooner... _

“Oh, my  _ gods _ ,” a voice that had grown familiar on a  _ very  _ long flight groaned.

It was a nice voice. And her head was nice. Big. Long, dangly... head... with stripes, and... fought like a.... vorn tiger...

“How the  _ frip  _ did you convince my master to frip you because your compliments are  _ worthless.  _ Just,  _ really bad. _ ”

“He picked my  _ fripping  _ lock,” Obi-Wan muttered, and Anakin could have swooned for joy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking mercy on you readers, so I'm warning you about this ahead of time: Don't breathe easy yet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan has a very uncomfortable conversation with snowdrifts, whereby proving he is still a Strong Sith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. So. Unexpected self-harm in this chapter; Obi-Wan has a ceremonial knife and it's implied that he has repeatedly used it on himself in a Sith ritual to purge weakness. It's Anakin's POV, and he finds him after Obi-Wan's done with that, so it's off-screen and not particularly vivid.
> 
> If you want to skip it: You're safe until Anakin goes outside, and then you can skip to the next set of asterisks and carry on from there. If you do that, there'll be a few points you miss, I'll put them in the author notes after, you can read the plot there.
> 
> Also: Ahsoka will mention the Nightsisters- that Nightbrothers (as seen in Clone Wars) are given the choice to die or "surrender" to a choosing Nightsister, for the purpose of being... a "mate." Only Ahsoka is going to call that for what it is. So you're not caught unprepared when she throws in the word.

 

When he awoke, Obi-Wan was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, Ahsoka sat in a chair, her feet propped up on the pillow cushioning his  _ face,  _ her fingers fiddling with constructing a new lightsaber hilt as she slouched in the tipped-back chair.

Anakin glared at the bottoms of her boots. “Where is Obi-Wan?”

“He's sitting out in the snow, naked.”

“ _ Why _ ?” Anakin yelped.

“Says he 'sacrificed strength for comfort.' He needs to figure out if he still controls his own destiny or if he has been enslaved by his need to be comfortable. Stagnation. Decay. I took one look at all those ugly dangly man bits and decided to wait in here where it's warm and all the ugly man bits are covered.”

“My dangly bits are quite pretty.” Anakin shot back.

She snorted. “Reincarnate as a woman sometime.  _ Then  _ we'll talk.”

Anakin's mood snapped serious. “Do you think he'll come sweeping in, still naked, and murder me?”

“Definite possibility,” she replied, still in that off-handed way and now partially distracted by a saber component.

_ This is my  _ life  _ we're talking about, here.  _ “You ever been in love, Snips?” he asked, feeling a bit melancholy.

“Once. It lasted more than three months, so she betrayed me, framed me for an Academy murder so the Overseers would kill me so she wouldn't have to do the hard part herself.”

“Hard part?” Why did he feel so sick inside?

“Snuffing out my life while looking me in the eye.”

Anakin heaved out a tired sigh. “Do Sith get happy endings?”

“Statistically?” she actually spared him a glance, though just one, before attending to her task once again. “Most all Sith die before entering their fiftieth year, with fifty percent dying in war, the other fifty percent betrayed to death by someone in their power base, household, or immediate Sith alliances. You know. Master, apprentice, former apprentice, sparring buddy... but if you're married or in love, it's almost always  _ that one.  _ Statistically speaking. I mean, maybe there's a Sith in love in the fifity percent who dies in war, without being betrayed.” She shrugged. “But wisdom says if you're Sith, fall in love with a non-Sith.”

Anakin felt mild interest. “Are the numbers better for them?”  
“Well... for the  _ Sith,  _ yes. The spouse survival rate for non-Force-sensitive spouses of Sith is less than thirty-seven percent. Only thirty-seven percent survive to see the death of their Sith mate. You know. Somewhere before their Sith hits the big five-zero birthday celebration.”

Anakin glared at her. “Snips,  _ surviving to be a widow or widower  _ is  _ not a happy ending. _ ”

“It's the best ending  _ any  _ of us  _ get, _ ” she pointed out.

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “And the non-Force-sensitive spouses who  _ die  _ before their Sith spouse does? How do they die?”

“Thirty-five percent of non-Force-sensitive spouses who die are casualties to the Sith spouse's enemies. You know. Home invasion, oh, I've got your husband, saber through the heart, attack while you're weakened by shock.”

“And the other sixty-five percent of the deaths are what?”

“Killed by their Sith spouse.”

“I think I'm going to fripping quit the Sith Order,” Anakin muttered. “It's not great for a romantic like me. What about other dark orders?”

Ahsoka thought for a moment, staring off into the middle distance. Then she perked up a little. “There's the Night clans. The women enslave and rape the men for offspring, then kill them once a girl-child is born.”

“Gee, thanks, Snips. That sounds like loads of fun. I am never looking to you for help again.” He rolled over to put his back to her, pulled the covers up farther over his shoulder and closed his eyes. He didn't know what Ahsoka was talking about, it was  _ cold  _ in this room made of stone.

“Good,” she chirped back, “because if my master barges in here naked to murder you, I'm hiding under a blanket until he's in pants. Every Sith for themself.”

“You're infantile,” Anakin muttered.

“What do you call running off out of known space to offer yourself to die for a man who doesn't even love you in return? Sounds fairly pubescent to me: certainly not  _ adult. _ ”

Anakin's eyelids snapped open and he glared at the wall. “I was beautiful.”

“You were embarrassing.”

“Where are we?” he scowled back.

“Serenno in winter. Obi-Wan has come to commune with his grandfather.”

“Great. Let's go meet him.” Anakin threw back the covers and sat up, dropping his feet off the side of the bed.

Ahsoka didn't budge. “His grandfather is dead.”

“ _ Fripping  _ inquisitors.”

 

* * *

 

It was only after he'd managed to bundle himself up very warmly that Anakin tromped out of the...  _ castle,  _ it was a fripping  _ castle...  _ into the snow.

It wasn't still falling, fortunately, but the sun was up and not a cloud was to be seen, and Anakin realized it might have been a mistake to come out here without locating goggles first. Maybe Ahsoka had some, though the strap must be huge to go around her head, damn things would probably hang off the tip of his nose...

Obi-Wan sat cross-legged in the snow, facing the south, back rigid, head up, eyes closed, wearing not a stitch of clothing.

_ You insane son of a— _

A knife, clearly old and covered in runic letters, lay before him, perfectly aligned with his knees, and score-marks down his arms, and the beads of crimson that had rolled down from them clearly said  _ sitting on ice  _ wasn't punishment enough in Obi-Wan's mind.

Anakin stood near, shoving his hands into the pockets of the jacket he'd found, feeling awkward. Darkness was heavily concentrated here, between the knife being fed blood, Obi-Wan's' focus, and Obi-Wan's severe physical discomfort.

_ Yes, you are clearly a big, bad Sith. No one mess with him. Can we go inside now? _

Anakin scuffed his boot at the hard snow, just a bit. “You know,” he spoke up, his heart leaping and thundering as he did, “I thought I was going to die. It never once crossed my mind you would come back for me.”

“Nor mine. And I regret it, tremendously.”

Anakin was unprepared for the  _ hurt  _ that seized him. He hated that pursuit of the dark, the absolute, singular focus on the pursuit of self, left  _ basic happiness  _ something so fantastically improbable that the best one hoped for was to have their spouse die before one or the other  _ betrayed.  _ Or threw a tantrum with a saber. Or—

“Is one selfless act  _ so  _ hideous?” Anakin demanded, the hurt sparking fury inside him. “After a  _ lifetime  _ of commitment to the dark?”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, revealing gold, clear and keen from the self-inflicted pain he currently endured. “What little I possess may be lost entirely if I do not guard the purity of my intent, and hoard my strength. You hamstring me. You cloud my judgment. You slow my reaction time, and infect hesitation in my sword-arm. You make my chances of  finding true power _vanishingly small._ You steal even my hope of _breaking my chains._ ”

Anakin tried not to flinch under the bitterness of the words, but that may have been a failed endeavor. Maybe Obi-Wan would pass it off as a shiver in the cold.

Which...

Actually might even be worse, in his eyes...

Showing hurt from words alone, or showing the impact of discomfort—?

_ But you know what? I survived the Academy, and most do  _ not.  _ The Academy, even now, weeds out the weak and throws them into the arms of death, but I  _ survived, _ and I am not the only one here who has demonstrated loyalty to someone other than myself! _

“And your Emperor?” Anakin challenged. “Malgus?”

“He valued honor, and it was easy to get caught up in it, but even he knew sacrifice; he knew what it was to love and to kill her to preserve his ruthless darkness.”

“ _ Fine,  _ then,” Anakin snapped. “if you regret saving me  _ so much,  _ kill me now!”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, calm and grim. “I intend to.”

And with the words, the cold seemed to piece all the way through the coat and down into Anakin's bones. For a moment he almost thought it was actual sorcery, but then he recognized that familiar pain in his chest, the one he'd first felt all those years ago when realizing Obi-Wan was not who he thought he was.

_ You'd think I'd have learned by now. _

But he could not command his heart.

Obi-Wan shot a leg out, swept Anakin's feet out from under him, landing him on his back in the snow, slamming the wind from his lungs, and launched over him, catching up the knife in hand, and pressing the blade to Anakin's throat.

_ Oh, gods. _

He should probably fight back.

He couldn't really find the reason to bother.

If he got away and fled, he'd always be looking over his shoulder, now that Obi-Wan had finally made  _ the decision. _ The only way to end it would be to kill  _ Obi-Wan,  _ and Anakin already knew that to be something he could not make himself do.

_ I'm not you,  _ he thought, staring up into eyes that burned with hate.  _ Goodbye. _

_ I still, insane as it is, cannot regret the time when I thought you loved me, and when I loved you in return, with all my heart. _

Obi-Wan's lip drew up in a snarl and he reset the blade against Anakin's skin.

But....

Thirty seconds in, he still hadn't pulled.

Anakin stared into his eyes and began to wonder.

_ Oh my Force. _

Obi-Wan's face twitched, distress and fury slipping into his expression—

Still the second stretched long.

Anakin reached his breaking point, and yelled up into the face above his. “You say you regret sparing me, but what you  _ cannot live with  _ is the sound of  _ her  _ last choked breath as you impaled her! You fear regretting murdering me for the rest of your life, because you're not sure you can  _ bear  _ to endure  _ twice that hell  _ every  _ fripping time you wake up or try to fall asleep _ ! Every time you're alone and wish there was someone to  _ speak  _ to, just  _ one person  _ who  _ doesn't mean you  _ harm! You hate your own life! The time you were happiest was when you let go of your  _ fripping pursuit of what you want  _ and just  _ faced death bravely  _ back-to-back with  _ Jedi  _ and  _ Marr  _ and your  _ king,  _ the king you  _ loved  _ and would have  _ died for. _ ”

Obi-Wan recoiled, ending up on his feet, still clutching the knife. “I did not  _ love him, _ ” he protested, eyes horrified.

“Not like I did you, no. But you believed in him, in his vision, you respected him and trusted him and were  _ glad to run into death's arms  _ beside him, and  _ that  _ is how you love a monarch. No matter what  _ title  _ you call them by.”

Obi-Wan shuddered, the knife slipping from nerveless fingers to sink point-first into the snow, and then he staggered away, up into the house.

Anakin paused for a moment, hardly believing he was still alive, and then immediately worried about Obi-Wan's continued existence, he scrambled himself up and after, just in time to see Obi-Wan all but collapse into Ahsoka's arms.

Ahsoka was so worried she didn't even bother to jibe at Anakin about the state of her master's disrobe.

 

* * *

 

He ended up so sick they had to dunk him in kolto, the precious fool.

Anakin spent countless hours sitting near, wondering what in hell's name could be done to release Obi-Wan from his need to be  _ the best,  _ the  _ most,  _ the  _ strongest... _

He wished it was as simple as convincing Obi-Wan to speak with Lord Praven, but the two Sith had  _ vastly  _ different interpretations of the Code.

Praven valued integrity and honor as he followed the Code, in the pursuit of breaking his chains.

Obi-Wan said that since integrity and honor were not  _ specified  _ in the Code, they were meaningless and were themselves  _ chains  _ needing to be broken.

Anakin found he didn't really give a kark about the Code anymore. The Sith way had never given him anything, everything he'd ever had in his life he'd fought for, tooth and claw, and had a lot of it taken away  _ anyway.  _ Honestly, Anakin wanted the eternal conflict to survive, and the eternal conflict  _ within him  _ to still.

He wanted...

Peace with himself, and peace with a loved one, so that he could bask in that love without it fracturing from the continuous conflict.

And Obi-Wan believed peace to be a lie, and despicable.

_ I don't need peace in everything, for everything. Just... between me and one, special person. _

_ Between me and  _ you,  _ Obi-Wan. I want to lie by your side and not wonder if you're going to stab me in the night. I want to kiss you and not wonder if there is poison on your lips. I want to hold you and know that if I am ever in danger, you  _ will  _ come to find me, not because you momentarily took leave of your senses, but because you  _ love  _ me. _

_I don't think peace is a lie. I've seen it in some very brave, strong, decent people and..._

_I want just a little bit of it._

_ And if having it means I can't be a  _ pure  _ Sith, and my darkness is stained, and will lead to some selfless, light actions... _

_So be it._

_I just..._

_I just want you, Obi-Wan._

_And I know you'll never let me have you._

He sighed, and knew he couldn't force that to change.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan came out of the kolto, and Ahsoka ensured he was bundled up, and not allowed outside until the last of his cough had cleared up, muttering about  _ settling in the lungs,  _ and  _ fragile humans,  _ and  _ dying of undignified causes. _

Obi-Wan's energy seemed drained, and those first few days he simply stared off at nothing, gloom hanging about him like his own personal raincloud. He seemed vacant, barely responded when spoken to, and only ate when the servants of the estate placed food in front of him.

At one point Anakin touched Ahsoka's shoulder as she passed him, and bent his head to murmur, “Have you seen this before?”

She watched her master— sunk in a massive armchair, staring into the fire— for a long moment before she replied, “No. You?”  
“Gods, no.”

“Well, kark,” was all she said in reply and walked away.

Anakin wondered if facilitating Obi-Wan speaking with Sedoru, or Timmns would have any effect.

In  _ this  _ state Obi-Wan might just see Jedi in his ancestral home and shrug.

Or he might snap and explode Anakin's brains out his ears.

It seemed... unwise to offer Obi-Wan a chance to cleanse himself through murder by offering up Jedi Masters of the sort who might be open to peace with a strong, sane Empire.

It was not the guests Anakin would have preferred who interrupted the malaise that had fallen on the Serenno castle, but they were unexpected all the same.

Anakin eyed them. One was dressed in black, with silver armor plates and a cape edged in green. Her blond hair fell to her chin and her eyes burned gold with Sith fervor. The other was a man with spiky hair, cybernetic implants around his eye, a crimson jacket with poofed shoulders, and a thigh-holster for a blaster. Anakin sensed some Force within him, but certainly not enough to manipulate with any accuracy.

_ Though he probably attributes his excellent aim and hand-eye coordination to skill alone. _

“I am Lana Beniko, and this is Theron Shan.”

“Why don't you have a title,  _ Lana _ ?” Ahsoka asked.

She shrugged, as if the question had been asked of her countless times before. “I am Sith. I pursue truth, honor, and the good of the Empire. I don't put much stock in titles.”

_ Hey. Another Sith who values honor. She didn't even mention the Code, Obi-Wan... and  _ truth _? That's a new one. Hm. _

Ahsoka crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, clearly not ready to trust.

“Why are you here?” Anakin asked, since the master of the house didn't seem to even be listening where he sat, picking at a run in the arm of the chair with a fingernail.

“You are Lords Tano, Skywalker, and Kenobi, and you are the only people to have returned from the task force Marr led to seek out the twin conquerors, the Emperor, or Malgus.”

“None of us were part of that task force,” Ahsoka pointed out.

“No. But in the end, the New Empire allied with Marr and the Republic to battle the unknown invaders, did it not?” Lana asked. “I trust the far-sight of my source. She saw the convergence clearly.”

Ahsoka offered a begrudging nod. “We did. In that last battle there was no distinction between Empire, New Imperial, or Republic; Jedi, Sith, trooper, droid.”

“It was like the end of time,” Obi-Wan murmured, surprising his housemates. “Glorious and cruel and beautiful.” He lifted his head, shifted uninterested eyes to Lana's face. “Do you seek confirmation of the ending? Darth Marr is dead, and so is my Emperor. Or perhaps you are here to arrest us, Lana Beniko, Minister of Imperial Intelligence?”

_ Oh, kark!  _ Anakin's hand flew to his saber hilt, and Ahsoka had both hilts in her hands in an eyeblink.

“I am not here because of your fealty to Malgus,” Lana dismissed, apparently unconcerned. “Theron Shan is of the Republic's SIS; I am accustomed to working alongside individuals with differing loyalties.”

“ _ Republic _ ?” Ahsoka blurted, scowling at the man with the blaster. “ _ Republic Intelligence? _ He's a  _ spy! _ ”

“So am I,” Lana pointed out.

But Ahsoka had fixated on something else. “ _ Shan _ ? Is that a  _ common  _ name in the Republic?”

“Yeah, so let's get  _ this  _ out of the way: My mom is the grandmaster of the Jedi Order, Satele Shan, can you get past it and work with me or  _ not _ ?”

Anakin's jaw dropped open. “ _ What? _ ”

Theron leveled him an unimpressed look. “Surprisingly, we don't talk much. You gonna listen to what Lana has to say, or was this a waste of our time?”

Anakin and Ahsoka shared a look, then both peered at Obi-Wan, who still seemed spectacularly uninterested.

“Say your piece,” Ahsoka asserted, upon seeing her master didn't seem to care.

_ I guess she  _ is  _ next in line of who's in charge here,  _ Anakin realized.  _ Her being a lord, and me being a... dropout who never finished apprenticeship.  _

There was no sign of hesitation in her.

_ Imagine if there was any left, it was burned out of her as she stood with Marr and Malgus and Obi-Wan and faced death in that Force-damn bubble in the sky with the fripping Sith Emperor who slaughtered Ziost. _

“I was there, in orbit above Ziost. And I was on Yavin, when the Emperor visited death upon the Republic and Imperial troops planetside. Another will be joining us, but he saw what Vitiate had done to the world of Nathema, over three hundred years ago: what he did in the quest for immortality.”

“Did you find Vitiate, or just the twins?” Theron asked.

“Both.” Ahsoka squared her shoulders, returned her sabers to her belt, and crossed her arms. “Vitiate has taken on a new body, named  _ Valkorion,  _ a body which sired three children. A girl and two boys: Vaylin, Arcann, and Thexan. Arcann and Thexan stormed through our galaxy, and if Arcann is to be believed, it was an attempt to gain their father's approval. Valkorion claims the Republic is not worth conquering and the Empire not worth saving, so he was turning  _ his  _ attention elsewhere. My read of Vaylin is that she is unhinged, possibly from systematic abuse and perhaps even imprisonment. Her power is fantastically overwhelming, just radiating off her in the Force. If you think Skyguy is loud in the Force, she is deafening. Arcann controls it better, and I suspect he is not as powerful as his sister, but he is the sole remaining twin. Thexan is dead; something to do with trying to win their father's approval. They're in their thirties by my guess, and are now in control of the  _ massive  _ fleet, and the Empire of Zakuul, now that they have killed their father and helped Obi-Wan trap his essence.”

Lana's eyes went huge, and Theron swayed, just a bit. They looked to one another in shock.

“You have the Emperor caged?” Lana clarified.

Ahsoka gave a nod. “It's possible the royals of Zakuul will choose not to invade this part of the galaxy again; they seem to have a very strong desire for their father to never resurface.”

“What do we do  _ now _ ?” Theron asked, clearly bewildered. “The New Empire is dead, the invaders seem to not be coming back, and Vitiate is caged.”

Lana's eyes narrowed as she thought. “Scourge will know what to do.”

“I'm sorry,” Anakin interrupted. “Who is Scourge?”

“Lord Scourge. The Emperor's Wrath. Before he disappeared, and Vitiate appointed the  _ current  _ Wrath. He served the Emperor for three hundred years,” Lana explained. “The Emperor made him immortal, and he has been hunting the Emperor to see him slain.”

Ahsoka did  _ not  _ look, or sound convinced. “Vitiate made him immortal, so he wants to kill him.”

“The description of his experience is chilling.” Lana's expression turned grave. “To succeed in staving off death indefinitely is a terrible thing to endure, as it turns out.”

“You came here to convince us to go with you to invade Zakuul, didn't you,” Anakin guessed.

The Sith and Spy stared at one another for a moment, and then looked to Anakin again.

“Yeah,” Theron confirmed. “Before we knew it was...  _ Zakuul,  _ you called it. We barely have the resources, either side, to continue a war that is not an invasion of a technologically  _ superior  _ set of star systems we don't even have  _ maps  _ for. The Dark Council is...basically come to pieces, and—”

“Acina will declare herself Empress any day now,” Lana stated.

Ahsoka stared at her in shock. “Wait, not even  _ a month ago,  _ my master and I were  _ hunted,  _ marked to  _ die  _ because we claimed an Emperor  _ not Vitiate,  _ and yet tomorrow the Empire might kneel to  _ someone not Vitiate  _ without a protest?”

“The twins laid waste to much of the Empire,” Lana pointed out. “The situation has changed. Where was the Emperor when his Empire was toppled? What was once too frightening to even whisper has become a deafening cry. The Empire wants a leader with the Empire's best interests in mind. With Marr dead and the Council fractured, we have few options left. Vowrawn or Acina, and Acina has a power base that even Vowrawn does not.”

A bitter scoff had Anakin looking over to Obi-Wan again. “And how is Cytharat faring?” he sneered.

“Cytharat is heeding the winds of change. He stands with us to face the threat of Vitiate.”

“After disowning his master and abandoning his side because of  _ treason,  _ he would follow a  _ false Empress  _ and seek to destroy Vitiate entirely.  _ Bravo. _ ”

Anakin wanted to ask who Cytharat was, but Lana was shrugging again. “If you wish to speak to him of his choice concerning Malgus, you will certainly have your chance. He is accompanying Lord Scourge; they will arrive here shortly.”

Obi-Wan leaned back in the chair, his eyes glittering, as he pointed a pale finger in the general direction of the visitors. “I will not fight your war.”

“Much is at stake. If you think Vitiate being trapped is  _ enough,  _ allow me to remind you  _ how much  _ he has overcome to make life hell for us all  _ time and again.  _ That is why The Emperor's Wrath stands with us, and why Cytharat stands with us now,” Lana urged.

“Cytharat was weak,” Obi-Wan dismissed.

“Cytharat is atoning.”

Lana's words snapped Obi-Wan's attention to her face, and he was suddenly paying  _ very  _ close attention.

Anakin all but groaned. No.  _ No.  _ Why, why,  _ why? _

As Lana walked out of the library to wait in the hall, Anakin pursued, shutting the door between them and Obi-Wan.

“ _ Thanks  _ for that,” he snapped. “I've been trying to build a  _ life  _ here with him!”

She stared at him in disbelief. “This is hardly the time for such frivolity. Did you not hear what is at stake?”

“I  _ hate  _ you,” Anakin enunciated clearly.

She gave an amicable nod. “That is entirely acceptable, as long as you fight alongside me. This must end.”

“And then we can all go back to killing one another, Empire and Republic?”

“Yes, if that's what everyone wants. But the war with Vitiate is not over until he is utterly destroyed.”

Anakin crosses his arms. “Then  _ you  _ do that. You, and Spy-Boy, and Sith-Rat, and Angry Whip, and leave us the frip alone. We gave enough to your war; we have no obligation to give  _ more. _ ”

Lana's gaze flicked past his shoulder and Anakin's own tightening muscles told him what had happened before he heard the voice, strong and free of doubt, behind him.

“We are Sith. War is in our blood, and we never back down from a fight.”

Anakin turned, saw Obi-Wan standing, eyes demon bright and filled with all the scheming strength of will that had begun to struggle.

_ Thanks,  _ Not-a-Lord  _ Lana Beniko, for ruining any forward momentum we'd had a chance for. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who skipped the knife reference:
> 
> Anakin recognizes that Obi-Wan regrets coming back for him, and is hurt. He demands to know if one selfless act is so viciously horrible a crime. Obi-Wan moves to murder him, Anakin's so fed up he just waits to see how it goes, and though Obi-Wan gets very close, he doesn't end up killing Anakin, unwilling to experience again the awfulness/emptiness/loss/pain he's felt since Satine's murder. It ends with Anakin dragging him back inside, Obi-Wan dangerously cold from sitting naked on the snow, and Obi-Wan sinking into a malaise because of his own perceived corruption. After all, if his actions are swayed by a desire to avoid pain, what kind of Sith is he? What kind of MAN?!
> 
> Stop laughing. He is having a Crisis.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific warning: Hate sex late in this chapter. Not Anakin/Obi-Wan... but Obi-Wan/Maul. Did not expect that in this story, but then Maul walked in and that was that.

Lana Beniko was a gift from the Dark.

_Thank you, grandfather._

He had lost his way, and she had been sent to remind him who he was.

_I am Sith._

They might need Anakin's power, they might need Shan's resources, they might need Scourge's personal knowledge of Vitiate as a  _being,_ and Cytharat's.... cannon fodder potential.

They would  _find_ a way to kill Vitiate, to knock in his knees and make him drink from Mistress Death's hand.

He would pay for Ziost, for Korriban, for every Imperial world that he and his sons laid waste to.

He would pay for killing Malgus, and Marr, and for leaving the Empire in such shambles and with such tarnished  _weakness._ It had  _crumbled_ and twisted and corrupted while he  _played with Zakuul,_ creating a new Empire instead of tending the one he was already responsible for, and siring children just to harm those children and make them lose all sanity.

It was time for Vitate to  _pay,_ and they would  _see it done._

And then Obi-Wan would kill Cytharat for betraying Malgus to the Empire, revealing Malgus' plans to create a New Empire, and then he would kill Anakin to free himself of the chain that Obi-Wan had allowed to be wrapped around his throat because of that man.

It would hurt like hell, it might drive him out of his mind for a time, but Ahsoka would stand by him and protect him until he could regain his sanity, and then he would emerge from the other side, tempered and stripped of yet another chain.

What Beniko had  _failed_ to mention was that  _Jedi_ were coming to help out too.

Obi-Wan stood at the front door, glaring at the group standing there.

A Sith Pureblood he did not know, with a weight of darkness that left Obi-Wan truly impressed: Scourge. Then a smaller Pureblood that made Obi-Wan's stomach and lip twist in hate: Cytharat. A Mirialan with so  _many_ tattoos on his face, and Obi-Wan knew each was given as recognition of some spectacular feat of bravery or courage, for that was how Mirialan tradition worked....

He also wore tan robes and armor plates, and the Force around him was clear and light.

Obi-Wan scowled at the group. Especially the Mirialan and the red-haired girl-child beside him.

“The frip is this?” Obi-Wan demanded.

“I am Jedi Master Somminick Timmns, and this is Knight Kira Carsen.”

“And exactly why are you here?”

“Kira sensed the Emperor's location and state. I had a connection to Lana; I have escorted Kira here. Kira is prepared to stand guard lest other children of the Emperor arrive to help him as we finish this.”

Anakin appeared in the doorway behind Obi-Wan. “I don't think the Emperor's children are going to intervene.”

“ _I_ came,” Kira asserted.

“You are a child of the Emperor?” Obi-Wan clarified.

“Yes.”

Anakin smacked the wall with his palm and groaned. “Just couldn't keep it in his pants, could he.”

Kira grinned, just a little at that, her eyes sparkling. “What can I say? He's a sick old man. I wouldn't advise letting him sneak into your mind and possess your body.”

“Tell me about it,” Anakin commiserated. “Master Timmns! Didn't think I'd see you again!” Anakin passed Obi-Wan and trotted down the steps to shake the Jedi's hand with a warm grip.

And that settled the last doubt Obi-Wan may have had.

Anakin Skywalker was not serious enough in his commitment to be Sith, therefore any serious connection with him would leave a Sith who  _was_ committed torn in two directions.

Anakin Skywalker would die.

There was calm in the recognition, and a knowledge that Obi-Wan himself would suffer, both in the strike and in the aftermath. Perhaps for rest of his life, but it had to be done.

And if he tried looking him in the eye, with Anakin knowing what was coming, Obi-Wan would falter again. Fail again.

_It will have to be as it was with Satine. Unexpected by either of us, and instant. The moment the opportunity and thought hits, I strike._

Anakin glanced back at him, the sun glinting his hair gold to match his eyes, and smiling. Beautiful, so beautiful.

He had always  _been_ beautiful.

Obi-Wan stepped out of the doorway, and in flowed the guests.

And then a Togruta woman was stepping in as well, perhaps a bit younger than Ahsoka.

“I am Ashara Zavros, apprenticed to Darth Occlus. My master cannot join you, but I have witnessed and participated in rituals concerning powerful Sith ghosts, and I am happy to offer up any assistance or knowledge I can. Much of my time is spent in researching ancient texts, holocrons, and tablets, as my master has a pull among ghosts. I am afraid I am as used to conversing with the dead as with the living.”

“Your master is on the Dark Council,” Obi-Wan hedged, not sure he wanted to let her in. “And you must know who I am.”

“Right hand of Malgus. But Malgus is dead, and the Council is no more. I see no conflict. I am a Jedi padawan pursuing the light, and I am apprenticed to Darth Occlus. I am used to living in a place suspended between life and death, loyalty and loyalty.”

She stepped past him into the house, and Obi-Wan stared after her in disbelief.

Where in  _frip's name_ did Lana  _find_ these people?

 

* * *

 

How to kill a being that had no body? How to kill a being made resilient with the dying gasps of untold millions?

“It was Lords of the Sith that he fed upon on Nathema,” Scourge said, and the weight of three hundred years of agony lined his voice. “He may claim his nature has changed, but Zakuul must have been conquered before Ziost, with his Zakuulan children already grown, and convenient I find it that it is only  _after_ Ziost that such a change is claimed. I am aware he baited his current Wrath and Lana while possessing an entire planet of people. You said he laughed when this Arcann slew him?”

“Yes. He was still trying to claim Skywalker's body,” Ahsoka clarified.

Scourge turned eyes scored with pain to Anakin. “Does any of him linger within, I wonder.”

“I do not have the pull my master has,” Ashara spoke up, “but I am accustomed to checking to see if Occlus is acting for self, or controlled by a passenger.” Her eyes glowed purple, and she seemed to see straight into Anakin's soul.

It didn't hurt, but it didn't feel  _good,_ either. Felt like a fell wind sweeping through the corridors of his heart, an empty, haunted castle.

It was going to be a long war council.

 

* * *

 

It was late.

Most everyone had been shown to guest rooms.

Obi-Wan lingered in the library, sunk in the chair again, staring into the fire. Ahsoka kept near, lying on her back on the floor, with her feet propped up against one of the bookcases, eyelids half-mast as she dozed.

Anakin had installed himself sitting on the floor near her, just where he could see the side of Obi-Wan's face, and at the time, it had protected him, mostly, from the view of everybody else in the room.

All of the fervor, needing to  _kill_ Vitiate...

It just felt pointless. And very much in the way of any attempt to woo Obi-Wan.

Not that Anakin had decided to  _try_ such a doomed-to-failure endeavor.

Heavy footsteps, metal against stone, had Obi-Wan bolting upright, every muscle taut.

In walked a crimson-skinned zabrak, with spectacular black tattoos suggesting Dathomir descent. His eyes were a blood-shot ochre, and he had a dark gray metal stud in one ear.

“Uh-oh,” Ahsoka muttered.

“Why are you here?” Obi-Wan demanded, as Ahsoka sat up and lost all trace of sleepiness. Anakin stirred, uneasy, wondering what he should be bracing for.

The zabrak gave Obi-Wan a mild look. “It's where I live.” His voice was smooth and soft. Imperial, of course, but rather lovely.

“No. It's  _not._ ” Fury flashed in Obi-Wan's eye, but his voice kept quiet.

The zabrak shrugged, and one beautifully shaped— and sturdily built— foot shifted position, just a bit, with a faint clink. “I'm here to meet with your father. He'll be here in a few days.” The expression on Obi-Wan's face turned just a bit uncomfortable to witness in its mess of negative emotions. The zabrak ignored it. “I decided to come early; relax in the hot springs a bit.”

“You are such a  _fraud_ !” Obi-Wan spat, surprising Anakin.

The zabrak chuckled. “That's why you hate fripping me.” He turned and sauntered out, and Obi-Wan strode to the fireplace where he began to pace, looking like a thundercloud as he tried to wear a groove in the floor.

“Uh...” Anakin leaned closer to Ahsoka and whispered, “Do we need to get ready to fight?”

She sent him an  _unconvinced_ look. “You're... not actually part of our household.”

“I  _live_ here,” Anakin pointed out. “I have a bedroom.”  
“You  _took_ a bedroom...”

“The new guy: what's the threat?”  
Ahsoka  _ugh_ -ed and rolled her eyes. “The house is going to  _stink_ of hate sex. And when they actually  _have_ their clothes on, they'll be screaming at each other. If we're lucky, Lana will be able to curb some of it.”

“Who is he?” Anakin wondered.

Obi-Wan sent them a severe glare, so apparently they hadn't been quiet  _enough._ “My father's apprentice.”

“Your father's... right.” Anakin frowned. “He's about your age, though, right? So why—”

“Oh, boy,” Ahsoka muttered and stood up. “Welp, I'm calling it a night. See whoever survives in the morning. Ta.” She scampered from the room, leaving Anakin feeling just slightly betrayed.

For a long moment Obi-Wan simply stared at him.

“You never mentioned you had family.”

“I wasn't  _trying_ to hand you things you could use against me.”

“Dunno. Looks like your Dad might not be the best way to hurt you.”

The snarl deepened. “Don't you talk to me about Qui-Gon Jinn. And  _Maul_ will be leaving just as soon as his  _striped arse_ has done  _whatever special thing_ he's been summoned for is this time.”  
“So... you hate Maul. I'm guessing because your father took  _him_ for an apprentice, but sent you to the Academy to survive or die, whichever.”

“He knew what would happen to me there,” Obi-Wan said, his voice low and soft. “He knew how little Force-strength I possessed. He did not want his legacy chained to  _how little_ I would accomplish, so there is Maul. But he would rather have a  _dead_ son than a son that  _is not Sith,_ so  _to the Academy I went._ ”

Something awful opened up inside Anakin. “Gods, Obi-Wan.”

“I'm only saying this because if  _I_ don't get ahead of it, Maul will dangle it out for you, piece by sordid piece just to enjoy watching me seethe.”

“Good to know all the shocking bits ahead of time,” Anakin mused, a bit optimistically—

“I cut off his legs.” Obi-Wan turned and strode out the door. He paused in the doorway, a hand gripping the jamb, “Goodnight, Anakin.”

And Anakin was left dropping his head into his palm in something akin to despair.

 

* * *

 

It was early the following morning when Obi-Wan arrived.

Maul wasn't particularly surprised that the footsteps wending down the winding stone staircase belonged to him.

But he turned his back anyway, and shifted so the chandelier would light him just a little bit better as he stood in the hot water that didn't entirely cover the tops of his ass globes.

“You're  _actually_ down here,” Obi-Wan scoffed.

Maul turned, knowing his erection peeked just above the surface of the water, not fully hard yet. “Wasn't lying about that, no.”

Obi-Wan's gaze traveled the planes of Maul's skin, lured as always by the tattoos.

Maul had figured this would happen sooner than usual, since Obi-Wan was just  _stewing_ over something, and Maul's arrival would give him an excuse to explode with whatever it was.

Maul really didn't care whatever it was that Kenobi was tormenting himself with this time, but the sex was damn good, and the fact they couldn't  _stand_ each other meant they didn't actually have to kill one another at some point.

Win-win.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan was very vague with himself on the reasons why he'd journeyed to the hot springs beneath the castle.

He had not been looking for sex. No. Of course not.

The tattoos... the way they led to the cock—  _also_ fully tattooed....

“Heard you had a Mandie for a while.”

Obi-Wan didn't deign a reply to that, simply a lip curl. Satine had hated the derogatory term. Not that silence would stop Maul, or ever  _had._

“Then she just disappeared. You do her in?”

That earned a reaction. “Why would you care?” Obi-Wan sniffed, suspicious.

He received a lazy grin.

“Her corpse is just.... laying out there somewhere. No one knows what happened to her. Your ruthlessness turns me on.”

And sure enough, the cock was moving, pulling free from the water.

“I  _hate_ you,” Obi-Wan hissed, even as he pulled off the single tunic he'd worn— because it had been  _early,_ too early for layers,  _that's_ why— and shed the loose pants— without underwear because he'd just felt like not having it last night,  _so what—_

And then he was in the water and seizing beautifully curved shoulders and biting viciously at Maul's lip, and strong hands were grabbing his ass in return.

 

* * *

 

Anakin had figured that it was far too early for anybody to be up, but he'd been unable to sleep.

Maul had mentioned something about  _hot springs,_ and that sounded damn nice, so Anakin decided to do some exploring and see if he could locate them.

He did.

He also discovered Maul's cybernetics began at upper thigh and went on down, and that he most certainly had a cock left, because Obi-Wan was impaled on it, riding him hard and with absolute  _resentment_ clouding the Force around them, muttering insults at each other the while as Maul's hands gripped Obi-Wan's hips and he rutted.

Anakin recoiled, grumpy, and decided Ahsoka was right to be annoyed at Maul's arrival.

Thing was, Ahsoka  _also_ was not kidding about how often they would be going at it, tearing at one another's shoulders and throats with their teeth, and fripping into or against whatever they could reach of one another.

It sure didn't seem  _that much later_ when Anakin was about to walk down the hall in the direction of the  _kitchen, dammit_ when he heard them— they'd been clothed, just  _moments before_ in the drawing room—

“Do you want to frip?” Maul asked, sounding just a bit conciliatory.

“No,” Obi-Wan shot back, but according to the shadows against the wall, he lasted but a second before seizing Maul's robes and shoving him back against the wall, kissing him savagely.

_Oh, for the love of..._

Anakin turned to walk away.

“That earring is  _stupid._ ”

“Jinn chose the Sith he thought would excel. Though he should have just snuffed you out in the cradle, instead of letting you limp along through life.”

“How're the  _legs_ treating you, these days?” And then Obi-Wan's voice faltered away into a cry of pleasure that Anakin knew all too well.

Lana, on her way out of the drawing room, paused, her eyes met Anakin's, and fury seized her expression. “Unbelievable. We have a  _job_ to do here.”

Anakin reached out to stop her too late as she swept around the corner and the noises came to a sudden stop.

“Lord Kenobi, we have  _work to do._ ”

“ _Lord_ Kenobi likes fripping what he could have been if only he had a different mother.”

“ _You're_ just a dud on the way to a girl. And one day a Nightsister will hunt you down and claim you, and  _kill_ you after she has your seed!”

“It'll only take the once,” Maul boasted, filling Anakin in disbelief. “ _This_ seed will turn out a girl-child, first try.”

“Please do. I'll dance on your  _fripping_ grave.”

“I am deeply disappointed in your lack of perspective on how grave the situation is, Lord Kenobi. Can you not frip your whore some other  _time_ ?” Lana scathed.

_Oh my gods._

And they were probably half-naked, too, or at least flopping out of their pants, and Lana was just standing there  _livid—_

_Eh. Life as a Sith._

“Kenobi was born to be on his _knees._ If you wanted to share, all you had to do was say soooooo—” the dismissal faded into an agonized keen, and for the first time Anakin wished he could actually see what was happening.

“Lord Kenobi, with all due respect,  _get your ass back in the library_ and help Ashara access your grandfather's collection of arcane datafiles. The system is rejecting her.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan grumbled, his voice huffing as he put himself back within the confines of fabric. “It's haunted by a cantankerous ghost. Mace will do whatever he can to be as unhelpful as possible. Grandfather and he were allies,  _Lord Dooku_ won't help you there.”

“Deal with the ghost, Lord Kenobi.”

“And what about me?” Maul wheezed, sounding just a little piteous.

“Go rut into a statue,” she mocked. “I don't give a kark what _you_ do. I think the apprentice has it out for you; you might want to be suspect of the soap in your rooms.”

Anakin choked a snorted laugh, and recoiled back into the drawing room, accosted by a fit of giggles.

Obi-Wan walked past and glanced at him, expression  _strange as hell_ and perhaps insinuating he thought Anakin was losing his fripping mind.

_Oh, gods, maybe I am. I'm living in a haunted castle with my ex who wants to kill me but can't and a monster trapped in a talisman._

_I think I never escaped that Temple on Zigoola; I'm just wandering around babbling, having lost my fripping mind._

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Warning: Obi-Wan's father arrives, and through his cruel interactions with his adult son in the now, we have a rather clear suspicion of the childhood Obi-Wan must have endured before being sent off to the Korriban academy. This AU's Qui-Gon hates his son for not being more powerful, and for being an only child.
> 
> Also: a few women will be verbally evaluated for their relative merit for being a prospective child-bearer for a Sith. They volunteered, because for whatever reason, agreeing to give birth to a Sith baby seems better than their current life situations, though I don't know what all those were since they don't end up the chosen dams.
> 
> A certain Sith wants to expand his power base, and strengthening your bloodline is one powerful way of doing so.

 

A plan had been settled upon.

Maul was down floating in the pools, Obi-Wan was all but sat upon in the library to keep him present, and the three Jedi circled the talisman.

“Are you sure there are enough of you to form a Wall of Light?” Cytharat asked.

Obi-Wan merely glared at him in silence.

“I have seen more done with less,” Scourge offered. “But the Hero of Tython is dead, and the ending I foresaw did not truly mean what I thought it would. I stand ready to try again, and then again, as many times as it takes until I see this entity destroyed.”

Standing in a circle around the box, Timmns, Kira, and Ashara let their arms hang down and a bit out, fingers splayed.

Ahsoka felt a bit wary. It was a similar gesture of abandonment to the Force that Obi-Wan would make, only the Jedi weren't—

Well,  _kark._

Now the Jedi were floating too, heads tipping back.

Anakin swore, then stiffled his exclamation into a hiss.

Lana had her saber in hand, golden eyes watchful, but without the chronic distrust the rest of the Order harbored.

Yes, Obi-Wan, Cytharat, and Scourge were all in the same place for the same goal, but none of them  _actually_ set aside their hatreds.

With Lana, everything except their goal seemed meaningless, and she routinely turned her back to Theron, the other Sith, and the Jedi.

Obi-Wan would say it was unpardonable foolishness.

Ahsoka found it rather...

Attractive, perhaps.

Lana didn't seem to put much effort into making herself appear beautiful. Many Sith were vain, as well as power hungry. Lana wore generic tabards and armor, nothing to call attention to her form or face. She expected everyone to know she was a woman, and deal with it, without the high-heeled boots, the form-fitting plates, or makeup so many Sith— male or female— preferred.

_She is practical, like Obi-Wan, but so much less petty._

A Sith who wasn't even interested in flaunting title, instead only claiming her own name...

_Does she think herself beautiful? Tending her hair must take some work._

Ahsoka wasn't entirely sure how much work, for obvious reasons, but...

_No... I don't think she_ lacks  _confidence. That is not why._

_Perhaps she believes she does not require_ more  _to be beautiful. Perhaps she genuinely pours that time and attention into things she does care about instead, and doesn't give a kark if the people around think she should wear more jewelry, or show a bit more breast._

Ahsoka liked feeling sexy, personally. Liked her clothes, liked how beings oriented in her direction responded to her form.

Maybe she should stay focused on the dead spirit that might come surging back out of that box and possess them all, but...

Gods...

Honestly, Ahsoka wanted to know if _Lana_ thought Ahsoka beautiful.

_And how in blazes would one convince her to say, either way?_

Anakin poked Ahsoka in the side, and when she glared up at him, he was smirking down at her with a knowing smugness that annoyed her.

_You think I'm like you. You think—_

But suppose she  _did_ somehow, some way, eventually coax Lana into her bed.

The thought of trying to kill her afterwards made Ahsoka's gut flip over uneasily.

Which maybe suggested she  _was_ like Anakin. A complete, utter deadbeat, who would  _never_ excel, who survived only because Obi-Wan...

Ahsoka's gaze shifted to her master.

Because Obi-Wan....

Was weakening too.

That was an alarming thought.

Ever since the temple where he slew Satine....

He'd been slowly unraveling.

_If I don't want to go down with him, at some point I will have to distance myself, or his fall will drag me under the dark waters too._

Ahsoka crossed her arms, staring once more at the Jedi, who were now softly glowing.

She didn't like the thought of being like Anakin. Or of keeping Lana at arm's length. Of of being wary of Lana, hyper aware that after laying, a blind spot could form, where betrayal from that quarter began to feel unlikely. Ahsoka saw that happen all the time, especially in men. She didn't like the thought of dying with Obi-Wan, in dishonor and squalor, but....

She didn't like the thought of abandoning him, either. Her miserable master.

_I want things that can never go together._

_I'll have to pick what is most important._

Force-damn.

Anakin seemed to have. He picked Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan seemed wavering.

_But in the end, he will not pick Anakin._

Maybe Maul being here, in a twisted way would help Obi-Wan figure out what  _he_ really wanted.

And Jinn was coming.

Ahsoka set her teeth, squared her shoulders, felt her hackles rise, and waited to see if she could impale a ghost with a lightsaber.

 

* * *

 

It was a rather horrific thing to watch, Anakin decided.

Scourge stepped inside the field the Jedi were building, the Pureblood's back ramrod straight, his chin lifted, his nostrils flared with pain.

_Oh, gods, stepping into that voluntarily..._

But perhaps, after three hundred years of torment, even Anakin would find death appealing.

_Or not. Maybe really not._

Scourge loosed his saber, grit his teeth, and endured as the Jedi surged strength in, forming an impenetrable and destructive Wall of Light.

Agony twisted the Force, coming from Scourge.

Obi-Wan averted his face, a hand coming up as if he would protect himself from the sting of the light.

Ahsoka's lip was curled in a snarl, her eyes wide with shock.

Lana clearly found the pain not too unfamiliar, still poised to act should something go terribly wrong.

As for Anakin, he allowed the soft burn of being this close to the Jedi to play across his skin.

The box opened, and the Emperor hissed out, before freezing up and shrieking at the cage the Jedi had formed.

Scourge continued the plan, dogged despite the pain, seizing the bond he had with the spirit and dragging it to him, deepening the link and twisting it into a mortality bond. A growl of fury hissed from the spirit as Scourge succeeded. Scourge staggered to one knee, the hand gripping his lightsaber shuddering, and it clearly took every ounce of his strength to drag the saber up to his chin. The room fell silent as Vitiate realized Scourge's intent and threw all his strength into a battle of wills. A look of pure hatred consumed Scourge's eyes, and Anakin sensed a flare of light from him as well when Scourge jammed his thumb against the ignition.

Anakin flinched as crimson light slammed up through Scourge's head, shattering bone and evaporating brain. The world seemed to tilt askew as Scourge dragged Vitiate down into death with him, the spirit clawing gouges into the floor as the Wrath took out the trash.

It was hideous to witness. Scourge's shields had been the least of his priorities, which allowed the physical and psychological agony to be laid bare for the entire room to witness and  _feel_ . Slaying Valkorion proved to be Scourge's foremost focus, and any effort to protect his dignity had been abandoned.

Just a millisecond before the end, so utterly alone, cut off from everything by the blinding, searing light as power surged to the saber crystal that would kill him, a flicker of relief had fluttered through Scourge's mind.

_He is glad it is over._

The Jedi tried to keep up the wall but it vanished, shock on the Jedi's faces as they dropped the short distance to the floor. Horror seized Anakin.

The corpse shuddered, imploding in on itself like crumpling metal, and—

_Oh, gods—_

Anakin only had time to see Obi-Wan's face turn ashen with dread, and then a light green glow scattered over Anakin, barely before the corpse spewed a venomous darkness over them all.

 

* * *

 

It had been a quick reaction of the Jedi, to send out a flare of purification, casting it over themselves and their Sith allies alike.

It left Ahsoka just a little shaken, because the Jedi easily could have protected only themselves, and let their dark side counterparts just  _die._

They hadn't.

And such a neutralizing power could not have come from one of the dark lords present.

Timms, currently supported by Theron, caught Ahsoka staring and sent her an amused smile.

“Do you think that did it?” Theron asked, looking to the charring on the floor where the corpse  _had_ been and the claw marks torn into the stone.

“If not, I imagine we'll find out,” Lana returned, sounding grim. “But I do not sense Lord Scourge, or the Emperor.”

Obi-Wan abruptly turned on his heel and walked away.

Ahsoka saw Ashara waver as if she might collapse, and feeling a begrudging appreciation that the three Jedi had saved her life, she moved to help ease the other Togruta into a chair.

“Thanks,” mumbled Ashara.

Ahsoka shrugged. “Back at you.”

Much as she might have liked to remain in the vicinity of Lana, Ahsoka suspected her master might need her more, just now. Through their bond he felt... sad.

It wasn't difficult to find him, hunkered in the secondary library, staring at a holo as it replayed.

It was Malgus' declaration on Ilum, what felt like a lifetime ago now.

“Fellow Sith. Citizens of the Empire. Too long the strength of the Sith has been beholden to the infighting of the Dark Council and the disappearance of an apathetic Emperor. Sith, children of Sith, and warriors everywhere, I declare a new Empire, open to all who long for conquest, freedom from inhibition, and the right to follow their passions. The Dark Council is dissolved. Those who would join Darth Serevin in supporting me, cast aside your titles and and let me lead you to victory. The Emperor is gone. His station and power are mine. We will conquer the galaxy while the Emperor sleeps.”

_Only... he wasn't sleeping._

“He will be missed,” Ahsoka murmured as the holo fell silent, Malgus' form still visible in miniature, flickering blue.

“The weak die,” Obi-Wan replied, sounding not entirely alive. “He died.”

Ahsoka didn't move. “Sometimes the strong die. Scourge. Malgus. And sometimes the weak live.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured.

A chill passed up Ahsoka's spine at his tone.

“Strength is built, is it not?” Ahsoka asked. “Where there was not strength, strength  _becomes_ ? A helpless infant becomes a child, much weaker than the adults who might wish to kill it. The weak child becomes an adult with strength but no experience. Does not all strength  _come,_ originally, from weakness? Is it not something one must pass through in order to take one's place on the other side?”

“He has had many years, and has not.” Obi-Wan still stared at the image of their lost Emperor. “He has had  _days_ to slay me in my own house, he has not bothered.”

“Perhaps he is following his passions, in his own way.”

Obi-Wan did not look convinced. “All beings have passions.  _Having_ them does not make Anakin special. Or worthy of continued breath.”

“Have you decided, then?” Ahsoka asked, experiencing some dread.

“My father is coming. I may need the fool's assistance. After that, this house shall have a purge.”

 

* * *

 

The house experienced a micro purge  _before_ that, Obi-Wan driving his blade through Cytharat's back as the guests made their way to the front door. Everyone  _not_ impaled recoiled away, sabers in hand.

“This is for my Emperor,” Obi-Wan murmured, “For stabbing him in the back.”

“Kenobi!” Theron barked, blasters out and threatening as Cytharat collapsed to the floor.

“He avenges Malgus,” Lana calmed, “There is no threat to you, and it is done. Let us leave.”

A bit rattled, Anakin watched the guests retreat outside and proceed to their ships, Lana included.

Anakin could see Ahsoka experienced quite a bit of disappointment over the loss of the Minister of Intelligence.

Anakin had urged her to ask Lana out, but he didn't think she'd taken him up on it.

Still.

With both threats and allies gone, Obi-Wan's building tension only became absurdly evident. He seemed to jump at every shadow, his eyes burning deeper with rage and fear alike.

“Tell me about Obi-Wan's father,” Anakin prodded Ahsoka.

She'd been a bit more subdued since they'd taken down Vitiate for good, as if she, too, dreaded what was coming.

She eyed him, a distance between them that hadn't been there before.

_Did I do something?_

“Obi-Wan is his firstborn, and the only child he sired. He was unable to have more offspring after, though he tried. He is perpetually disappointed in Obi-Wan's lack of Force strength, and we haven't seen him since... we joined the New Empire, of course. I don't  _think_ Jinn will execute Obi-Wan for treason, given he's his only heir, but...”

She shrugged.

_And Obi-Wan probably doesn't know either._

“Why are we staying, then?” Anakin asked. “Why don't we go somewhere else? You guys don't live here usually, do you?”

“At the ancestral home? Force, no. But Obi-Wan feels he has unfinished business here.”

As if  _that_ didn't sound ominous.

 

* * *

 

The sex with Maul diminished, but the verbal battles increased, both in frequency and in vitriol.

“You  _stole my father from me_ because your father was just a  _deadbeat_ who couldn't sire a  _girl!_ ”

“You're only alive because of  _charity,_ weakling. Your father chose me because I have  _strength_ in my veins! I keep tripping over you because you are continuously in the way, but not  _worthy enough to fight!_ ”

_Oh my gods._

At this point, Anakin almost  _wanted_ Jinn to get here, so they could part ways with Maul.

As it turned out, they parted ways with Maul much sooner than expected.

It seemed like a normal fight. Anakin was sunk low in the overstuffed armchair, watching, bored, as the two Sith bickered before the fireplace.

“Not as though  _you_ have heirs, Kenobi, unless I am misinformed.”

Obi-Wan's scowl deepened.

“So that's a no,” Maul dismissed. “Still no power base to protect them with? After  _all this time_ ? I have three heirs already— two of them blessed by Jinn, they live under his protection now. Jinn will be here within the day, to shift the right of succession from you to me, the way it should always have been.”

Honestly, Anakin didn't realize what had happened until Maul's carcass sagged to the ground, at which point Anakin sat up, paying sudden and much closer attention.

Anakin had thought he'd seen Obi-Wan snap multiple times throughout their knowledge of one another, but this time, Obi-Wan had lost his kark in such a fast, brutal way, that Maul hadn't even anticipated the snap of his neck.

Obi-Wan's fingers hadn't even moved.

Anakin looked from the dead body to Obi-Wan, who was already busy throwing things into a satchel.

“Where are you going?” Anakin asked, wondering if they needed to run for their lives now, before Jinn got here—

“I must go, before Jinn gets here, and before Maul's power base realizes he is dead.”

“To do what?”

“Kill the spawn.”

“ _What?!_ ” Anakin yelped. “The babies?”  
Obi-Wan threw him a preoccupied look. “If the right of succession shifted, Jinn's only reason for keeping me alive goes away, he and Maul kill me as soon as it's done. I have to make sure Jinn's only lineage must be through  _my_ offspring.”

And with that he was out the door.

Anakin scrambled up and after. “But, Obi-Wan—”

Only to have Ahsoka move to stand in his way.

“Don't push him on this,” Ahsoka warned, something in her eyes making Anakin's hope for the future feel bleak. “Help me deal with the body instead.”

Anakin did not want to accompany Obi-Wan.

And Force knew he wasn't prepared to  _stop_ him.

So he stared into Ahsoka's eyes for a long moment, and then agreed.

 

* * *

 

“You  _fripping worthless wretch,_ if I could have  _had another child_ after you  _burned me out,_ I would have sired another and  _killed you where you sniveled—_ ”

“ _I_ am not the cause of your infertility!”

_It's like having Maul in the house, only worse,_ Anakin decided.

“ _All_ of Maul's offspring? Force  _damn_ you, Obi-Wan.”

At that, the closed-off library fell silent.

Anakin looked to Ahsoka, where they stood outside, waiting for the outcome.

“He's getting older,” Ahsoka whispered. “He doesn't have the guarantee of time to raise another apprentice well enough to risk accepting the offspring of that new line. This just might work.”

“You're lucky I recognized Maul's death before I arrived,” Jinn growled at last. “I brought a secondary plan. You must sire children.  _Immediately._ If I cannot have a child, and cannot have a surrogate bloodline, you better damn well make sure my legacy endures. I brought a few women for you to pick from.”

Anakin saw Ahsoka's face split into a wide grin, and she sent him a victory gesture.

Except...

_How is this a good thing?!_ Anakin scowled at her.

“It means he  _lives,_ ” she shot back, as if  _he_ were being the irrational one.

 

* * *

 

That had gone tentatively better than anticipated.

Jinn was furious, of course, but Obi-Wan could only shrug at that. Jinn was perpetually either furious, or coldly indifferent.

At least now they understood one another.

_I am your heir. Through_ me  _you will succeed, or fall, so it is in your best interests to see me succeed._

Finally.

Though now that Obi-Wan was looking over the potential child-bearers his father had brought for him, he began to doubt whether Jinn's assistance was going to be useful or not.

“What does it matter, if she was recently found to be Force-sensitive by slaying her master? She was a  _slave._ I cannot have my firstborn carried by a former slave,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

Jinn shrugged, and gestured to the next.

Having a maverick for a father looked like it would continue to be a headache, even with him on the same team.

Obi-Wan eyed the Pureblood suspiciously. “And why did  _you_ volunteer?”

“An alliance, between your bloodline and mine.”

Obi-Wan scoffed, sending a scowl to his father. “To kill her after birth would be to incur a pointless feud. Destroying their house would not  _further_ ours, they're at roughly the same status, and not even rivals. And to  _keep_ her so that we could expand  _horizontally_ is  _settling_ for mediocrity.”  
She arched a brow-ridge at him. “I take it that's a no, then?”

“It's a no.”

She shrugged, beckoned to the human former slave, and they headed back to the ship.

“This one, then,” Jinn asserted, as if the process of elimination was  _enough._

_My Force, why was I saddled with him?_

“This one is an alien.”

“I don't see the problem with that,” Qui-Gon dismissed.

“ _Malgus_ is dead, that's what's the problem with that. In his empire, a half-Zabrak child could excel.  _Here?_ Not so much! My firstborn will have to fight even  _harder than I have,_ to gain half the distance—”

“Screw you too,” the zabrak scoffed, and stalked out of the room.

Jinn threw his hands in the air and then planted them on his hips. “So,  _what then._ ”

“I find someone who will actually  _suit!_ I'm going to Korriban!”

“An apprentice bearer?”

“No, just a bearer. Who can be disposed of afterwards. Who is of human or Pureblood origin, who is powerful and of a good bloodline, but not prestigious enough a bloodline to incur obligation or unnecessary resistance to my ascension.”

“Ascension to  _what_ ? The Dark Council is gone. Focus on strengthening our bloodline, and then look to your ambition once the pieces have all shaken out. Unless you mean to be  _Emperor._ ”

Obi-Wan ground his teeth at the mockery in his father's tone.

He knew better than to take the challenge, though. He did not have what it took to take and hold the title of Emperor against Acina or Vowrawn, and  _certainly_ not them both.

He turned, strode from the room, and without looking to the alcove where Anakin and Ahsoka hid, he muttered, “Anakin, you're coming with me,” and stormed in the direction of the hangar, Anakin, wide-eyed, stumbling after him.

 

* * *

 

“Why am I coming?”

“I am in search of a child-bearer, not a lover.”

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Obi-Wan sent him a strange look. “How you feel is hardly on my list of priorities.”  
“Right.” Anakin stifled the sadness inside. “You sound like Beniko. Why do you want me for your wingman?”

“You're not. You're coming as my apprentice, so the candidates understand I'm not in the market for an apprentice. It will minimize time-consuming misunderstandings. I don't want someone who will be hounding me for training across nine months.”

Anakin glared.

_But I seem to not be telling him no._

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra warnings: Someone gets slapped. Women volunteer to carry Obi-Wan's child to escape Korriban, and are verbally evaluated for potential merits/liabilities for that role. Sith politics get ever nastier. More Children As Assets Not Creatures to Love talk.

 

Anakin found it... stomach churning, that there were young women offering up reasons why they would be excellent.

Maybe worse to watch Obi-Wan's face, as he weighed and measured risk and benefit.

The young women who approached him were not doing  _well_ here at the academy. They were not doing  _poorly,_ because those  _died,_ but Anakin could see the signs.

They could easily be killed on some assignment, not because they were unfit and couldn't survive, but because a gang of other students might mob them to try to eliminate the least-stiff of the competition.

There were even a few males who eyed Obi-Wan jealously, though they knew better than to approach.

Obi-Wan had made it clear he was looking for a dam. Not a frip-toy.

There were four young women right now, between the ages of twenty and twenty-three, that Obi-Wan was considering. He drew back, turned to Anakin. “What do you think?”  
Obi-Wan searched his face, looking for....

_Who knows what he's looking for._

Anakin stared back and wondered.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka had made an excellent point. Even the strongest of Sith had once been helpless infants. Anakin was weak, certainly, but he had survived quite a bit so far, and perhaps the ability to weaken a rival was a protection mechanism in itself.

He searched for any sign that Anakin could ever be an equal.  _His_ equal.

He meant Obi-Wan no harm, so perhaps he could be an ally...

_If..._

He wasn't a liability.

So he searched for calculation, for guile, for  _anything_ that could indicate that Anakin had  _learned anything_ from the events he had passed through since they had parted, so many years ago.

Obi-Wan did not have much time left.

He would have to decide about Anakin soon. And once his father was pacified, and he was safe from losing the Serenno power base...

_I will be able to put off deciding no longer._

 

* * *

 

There was hope in Obi-Wan's eyes and in the Force, and anxiety.

_Think like you for a minute,_ Anakin thought, frantically searching for the right response. The response that might allow him to have some sort of  _life_ with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

_What does he want? He wants... he wants power. To be an excellent Sith. To follow the Code. To eschew all weakness._

_He also wants me not dead, as his hesitation to kill me in the snow proved._

_He wants to find a way where me being alive does not deny him power, does not make him a tarnished Sith, does not make him weak._

_But what would I need to be, for that to be the case?_

He shifted his gaze to the women, to buy himself some time.

_Occasionally, long-term alliances between equals are allowed. For mutual benefit. Sometimes those alliances have a sexual component._

_For him to see me as a beneficial alliance, not a liability, what would I need to offer?_

Not just raw strength and power. Anakin had those and in spades.

Not love and commitment. Those were what Obi-Wan despised him for.

He couldn't pretend those weren't part of him, though.

_Ahsoka doesn't. But..._ _he doesn't seem to push her away the way he does me._

Ally. Useful ally.

_How do you win the heart of a man who loves only himself?_

“This one has delicate bone-structure. You already have small bones. Your children will look small and vulnerable,” Anakin pointed out of the first.

He didn't look back to Obi-Wan, but through the Force he felt the jolt of positive shock.

“These three seem like reasonable choices; do you intend to only have one child right now? Is it not wise to prepare in case something goes wrong?”  
“You may go,” Obi-Wan dismissed the one Anakin had pointed out.

She sent Anakin a venomous glare full of hate, but did not protest.

“The rest of you, come with me.”

_He... took my advice?_

Anakin risked a glance at Obi-Wan as they returned to the ship, new acquisitions in tow, but Obi-Wan's expression and Force-presence had shifted back to unreadable.

 

* * *

 

On the journey back to Serenno, the announcement reached them.

Long live Empress Acina.

The Empire was changing, day to day, hour to hour.

Darth Occlus no longer held a Dark Council seat, but the apprentice  _of_ Darth Occlus, Ashara, still had access to a strong power base. Not to mention Occlus' proclivity for ghost whispering.

Lana was a brutal pragmatist, hardly one to do a favor unless there was clear gain in it for the Empire as a whole, but she  _was_ Minister of Intelligence. 

Anakin...

In these changing times, as bloodlines that had once meant strength now meant  _nothing,_ and as the entire structure of power within the Empire shifted, now was hardly the time to  _destroy_ potential allies.

Perhaps it was not weakness that had stayed Obi-Wan's hand, but instinct.

_Recognition of the use he could still play._

It was possible.

The evidence  _for_ might be...

Obi-Wan  _had_ slain Satine. Without hesitation, without mercy. Obi-Wan had also succeeded in blotting out his oldest, most-hated rival and his spawn. He had gone up against Vitiate and survived— not entirely on his own, but the whole idea of a power base was that lone Sith with no resources and no underlings rarely got very far in the grand so scheme of things.

Anakin Skywalker might never be ally material...

But he was all but begging to be part of Obi-Wan's power base.

And  _having_ him there did not mean that Obi-Wan was succumbing.

In fact, Anakin's commitment to him might prove... useful. This strength, this power, would die to protect him.

It was foolish, of course, but...

The lesser were born to serve the stronger.

Anakin Skywalker was like a Dashade of old. Absolutely loyal, devastatingly powerful, meant to be led, not allied.

If Anakin learned, then perhaps he could become an equal, an ally. If not, then he would be part of the power base. In a sense, he already  _was._ After all, he'd given his body and life to rescue Obi-Wan from Valkorion.

Loyalty was a shavit quality in a Sith _leader,_ but excellent, _necessary_ in underlings.

It was uncertain as of yet, whether Acina would hunt down those who had betrayed the Dark Council to form the New Empire, or if she would focus on other, greater concerns.

Having Skywalker on his side might be fantastically useful.

He also seemed to require little in the terms of upkeep.

 

* * *

 

Jinn  _of course_ wanted to see the women Obi-Wan had chosen. 

Obi-Wan stood nearby, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. Anakin kept quiet, positioning himself where he could see everyone's reactions.

Ahsoka stood near the door, searching the Force of each of the women, looking for duplicity, ulterior motive, already-formed hate towards Obi-Wan or Jinn, anything that it might be good to identify now,  _before_ a child was conceived.

Jinn was looking for completely  _other_ things, of course.

He wanted to know what family each was from, and what power that family had in the grand scheme of things. He pressed his consciousness against their defenses, testing for Force-strength, and considered physical attributes.

He asked each if any had a history of impotence in the family.

“Because my  _son_ might have  _trouble_ in that line. We need to know  _he's_ the one with a problem, in the event of failures.”

Ahsoka didn't feel particularly upset. Jinn was a dick. Couldn't be helped.

Her master colored, but did not in any other way react.

Anakin looked downright upset.

The three under scrutiny remained focused on the career path they'd chosen, answering even Jinn's most obnoxious questions with a poise that Ahsoka appreciated.

At last Jinn turned his back to them to see his son. “They have more power in the Force than you, even though that's not much of a feat. At least you'd be increasing your chances of having children who  _aren't_ Force-deaf. Which one are you leaning toward?”

“All three. Unless your power base is not strong enough to protect three potential heirs.”

Jinn's eyebrow shot up. “Rather arrogant, don't you think, since you don't know if you can even sire?”

“My medical tests have not suggested difficulty. If you're done belittling me, you can leave me to the business of ensuring you have a more competent heir than  _me._ ”

Jinn considered it, then nodded. “They'll stay here until they're knocked up. I'll remove the non-eunuch servants to other estates. I'd advise you to not allow fully intact Sith to enter the castle until you've assured conception.”

“DNA test, Father.”

Ahsoka tried to hide a grin and had to turn away. Obi-Wan had looked so grave and helpful in his sass.

Ahsoka heard the crack of a palm connecting with a face, heard Anakin yelp in anger. Knew Skyidiot was not the one who'd been struck.

Jinn walked out, brushing past Ahsoka in the process.

Soon Obi-Wan was at Ahsoka's shoulder.

She glanced up at him, saw redness where Jinn's palm had connected with the side of his face.

_Your bloodline's power base has never been at your disposal. Ever. But now..._

He looked down at her, calm in his eyes.

Ahsoka could always see it in his eyes when he looked at people, the evaluation, the calculation. What he could get most out of them, and whether that involved them being alive or dead. He never had that look in his eye when he looked at her.

“Almost there,” he murmured.

Ahsoka touched his elbow and pulled him out of the room into the hallway before whispering, “Once you have a live baby, Jinn will kill you. He won't need you anymore. He'll  _have_ an heir.”

“Oh, that's definitely his plan,” Obi-Wan concurred. “But a  _live_ baby has to be born first. Until then, too many things could go wrong with his plan. We have an assured nine months to devise how to defeat him. We need to have the plan ready in three.”

Anakin peered around the doorframe. “Why don't we just kill Jinn now?” he whispered.

Instead of betraying annoyance, Obi-Wan didn't look perturbed by the other's intrusion.

“Jinn's power base is not just loyal to him because they were loyal to Dooku. They're loyal to him personally. If I have him killed now, he'll have done everything he can to ensure that base does not fall into my hands. It's why I didn't kill him decades ago.”

“...Decades,” Anakin asserted with a question.

“I had my first opportunity before I hit the double digits in age. Realized I'd be tooling myself even worse. Chose not to.”

Obi-Wan walked away.

Ahsoka felt a spark of sickened resignation from Anakin, and so looked even farther up to see him.

“Is it possible he doesn't connect with people because he can't?” Anakin asked.

“If it makes you feel better about yourself, go ahead and think that,” Ahsoka offered, mildly impressed with Anakin's gullibility.

The man must be blind if he hadn't seen that killing Satine had sent cracks all through Obi-Wan Kenobi's psyche in a way a hundred other murders had not.

_And if you haven't seen how he is with me._

 

* * *

 

Padmé considered the well-appointed room she had been shown to, feeling the weight of the history of  _money_ of this particular bloodline.

Her own? Her family lived under no shadow of incompetence, a lack of honor, or any other thing that might marr a Sith's good name, but though they held influence on their home planet...

Not really anywhere else.

Their bloodline was hearty, producing strong Force sensitives often, and she had survived five years at the Academy, which proved she was not  _weak_ in any manner of the term.

The fact remained...

No Sith of note was going to take her as an apprentice. She was not the dregs, but students of note continuously came in, and they always went before students who had been proving themselves capable, but not necessarily in the top twenty percent.

Sith started with the best, and worked to get even better.

The only Sith who would take her would be a Sith of... low note. Or worse... no note.

And while maybe she could haul herself up from that, no such lowly Sith had even considered her for apprenticeship in the whole time she'd been available for apprenticing.

Lord Kenobi? Lord Kenobi held power.  _And_ he could get her off Korriban. If she gave him nine months of her life, and carried a child for him, it could open doors. If the alliance proved amenable, he might locate a master to complete her training, and they could continue forward as allies— a powerful step for her, and non-threatening, while solidifying, for him. If by the end they couldn't stand one another, and she still did not present a threat to him in any way, they would likely part ways, and she could seek out a master on her own terms.

No one escaped Korriban without a master accompanying them.

No one.

Padmé drew Serennian air into her lungs and felt a smile light up her face.

She'd escaped Korriban.

Lord Kenobi was sexy as hell: Padmé of the house of Amidala would be quite willing to hit that in order to take life back into her own hands, to live it on her own terms.

Only one thing she had to make sure to do:

Not form what appeared to be an alliance with the other concubines, and above even that, above  _all..._

Don't be a threat to Lord Kenobi.

Only threats were killed after being bedded.

_And while I may not have fame or prestige intrinsically to my name..._

_I do know how to play the game_ well.

 

* * *

 

Sabé felt... a bit frightened, to be honest.

She'd survived by keeping an eye on Padmé, mimicking her wisdom, and a lucky similarity in looks. Occasionally those who might have tried to murder Sabé mistook her for Padmé in the dark of the tombs, and passed by. Still, Sabé had been barely holding in there. Death was inevitable, just around any corner. She had to get the hell off Korriban, no matter what it took.

Seeing Padmé had given up attempting to attract a master's attention, and instead jumped at the chance of this particular patron... Sabé hadn't really known what else to do, except follow suit and hope for the best.

Still.

Now she sat in the windowseat of a massive...  _massive_ castle, staring out into manicured gardens that required more hands to tend it than Sabé's entire home village held....

Sabé breathed out slow in an attempt to steady her nerves.

She didn't really care about bringing honor to her family, or fame for herself. She really just wanted to escape. Escape the poverty and misery of her homelife, escape the Academy she'd been sent to as soon as her parents realized she had Force ability...

_Escape this?_

She wasn't near Padmé. Couldn't ask her what  _her_ plan was.

Padmé wouldn't reveal it anyway. She was a  _good_ Sith. A Sith who wanted to go places, and might actually get there if she could just get past the really,  _really_ impenetrable wall blocking non-elite students from escaping the Academy.

The wall that meant that if you didn't attract the right kind of attention fast, you died. Sooner if you were weak. Eventually, if you just never were picked.

Survival mattered.

On the other hand... Sabé had experienced plenty of pain in her life, and she wasn't excited about the verbal contract she was currently facing. Lord Kenobi was... well... gorgeous, and Sabé rather liked the idea of sex with him, but...

Flirting leading to sex was one thing. A thing Sabé might be able to control a bit.

Contracted sex was something else altogether.

_What if he's cruel? What if he decides to kill me once he has the baby, even though he would gain nothing by doing so? What if it hurts?_

Sabé took in another steadying breath.

_All I have to do is be a little less remarkable than Padmé. That way she receives whatever attention I might want to escape. That way I only deal with the bare minimum until the contract is up._

But then what?

Where would she  _go_ ?

Not home, certainly. Did she want to try to find a master and negotiate an apprenticeship outside of the structure of Korriban? Students trapped there often daydreamed or spoke of just  _leaving,_ finding their  _own_ master. There was an aura of belief that it was possible, certainly, without the blessing of Korriban. That maybe it even happened often.

_But do I_ want  _a master?_

And what would she do, if she didn't pursue a career as a Sith?

_I didn't choose to be Sith, and I'm not sure I want that life._

Sabé found killing to be nerve-wracking, tiring, draining, and it made her feel awful inside. It made her suspect that a life-path as a Sith, or in the Imperial military, was... not a good fit for her at all.

_But what do non-Force-sensitive people do?_

She didn't know.

 

* * *

 

Ishla immediately approached the closest mirror, checking to make sure the ridges over her eyes, and down the sides of her cheeks and jaw retained their shadings and highlights.

Yes, the makeup was in place.

She pulled her hair down from its pinned updo, shaking the black mass out around her shoulders and neck.

_Too much?_ She bunched the hair back up and frowned in thought.

She could have ended up with a master at the Academy. In fact, there had been a couple “courting” her in the sense of a master testing and sending prospective apprentices out to do menial and dangerous jobs to see how far the apprentice would go to please... and how good they were at surviving.

Ishla hadn't been interested in either.

The way the Academy worked took all of the power out of the hands of prospective Sith, and kept it in the hands of old farts who didn't really have any particular right to it.

She wasn't about to settle for a master who pretended to begrudgingly  _allow_ her into their service, only to use her as unpaid labor for all the dangerous, repulsive, menial tasks, and  _especially_ any tasks that might be perceived as traitorous, or bringing down the wrath of a fellow Sith, so that they could throw said apprentice under the speeder.

She was a good catch as an apprentice, and knew it. All she had to do was get the hell off Korriban, and then she could approach masters  _she_ had interest in, to negotiate for an apprenticeship  _she_ wanted.

She wasn't about to go home with one of those seeking masters only to find out she was one of  _many_ apprentices, all held in basic disregard, vying for even the slightest scrap of training.

She was going to be a Sith lord, and whatever manipulation that was required to get there? She'd go for it.

She didn't experience sexual attraction towards anyone, but she found sex to be pleasant enough. Not spectacular, but not Force-awful, and depending on how the Empire shook out with Acina now on the throne...

Kenobi might be a useful ally.

It also might be useful to have her bloodline carried on,  _without_ her having to actually raise the child herself. Kenobi would be separating the carriers from the infants, to protect himself from having the women form a mother-bond with the little ones, something that might lead them to try to overthrow him.

Nine months' discomfort,  _without_ the trial of having to raise a...  _child..._ herself? A Sith Lord who likely wouldn't see her as a threat, and  _could_ potentially be useful in Ishla's own rise to power?

Reasonable. A very reasonable trade.

She wouldn't even have to expend the resources to protect her bloodline— the burden of keeping the baby  _alive_ to adulthood? That was all on Kenobi.

Ishla didn't know about the other two concubines, the humans, but...

_I feel very positive about this deal. It was a good move._

She put her hair up into a low, messy bun.

She didn't have to convince him to frip her in order to get what she wanted from him. He was already convinced.

No need to overdo the hot, sweaty,  _need you so much_ ridiculousness. 

If he needed his ego stroked, she'd find another way to do it.

And if he didn't need his ego stroked? Then by the Force she wouldn't put pointless effort into it!

 

* * *

 

It was evening.

Jinn had left, thank the Dark, and had taken all of the potentially impregnating servants and slaves away with him.

Obi-Wan didn't really care, though he felt that to be unnecessary.

Anakin was definitely unsettled as the sun began to set, fidgeting and trying to watch Obi-Wan covertly, instead of being as obvious as earlier in the day.

Pretending not to care.

Failing miserably.

_Antagonize him too much, and his power will no longer be mine to control without much price._

A resource worth putting in some effort to maintain.

Obi-Wan approached Anakin where he sat, and the golden-haired Sith sprang to his feet.

It was a protective instinct, though Anakin did not brace himself for injury.

Obi-Wan reached up and touched Anakin's chin. The other man flinched— still half-expecting injury— but held sturdy.

Obi-Wan stood on his toes to reach up to press a feather-light kiss to Anakin's lips.

He could almost hear Anakin's heart lunge and bolt, and he  _definitely_ could sense it in the Force. Looked a bit painful, actually. Trembling, Anakin stared at him with wide eyes as Obi-Wan walked away.

Ahsoka watched with unreadable mien, and though she had weakness where her master was concerned...

_She will be an excellent Sith. She will overcome it, she will grow, she will burn magnificent and bright._

Her head turned in his direction as he passed her, perhaps sensing the warmth of pride he felt for her. A soft smile touched her lips.

 

* * *

 

Anakin's legs felt like his bones had been soaked in vinegar.

_What.... what was that..._

He felt a bit giddy, as if his brain didn't have enough oxygen. He sagged back into the chair, heart still going mad.

_Oh, gods. I love him. I love him and he kissed me, he kissed me of his own accord. The frip does he want from me? Now that Maul's gone he needs sex? No, no. He's going off_ to _have sex._ _Three times if he can pull it off._

Anakin's brow furrowed in upset.

“Snips?”

“Skyidiot?”  
“Is he gonna make you pick out some stud and have kids to strengthen your bloodline?”  
Ahsoka didn't look surprised by the question. “No, he's not going to  _make_ me. I'm going to do it on my own time. I don't have a power base yet to protect offspr—”

“You don't like men, Ahsoka.”

“So maybe I'll go for a woman or nonbinary individual with a working penis. That's a thing, Skyidiot. But you're missing the point. Siring children isn't about preference, or love, or feelings. It's about power. If you can protect them, then having kids brings you more power. It's a very simple equation.”

“I'm not doing it. I'm not having kids unless I want them.”  _I don't want to be a father like Jinn. I don't want to subject some poor kid to a life like Obi-Wan had_ with  _Jinn. I don't—_

“Of course we want kids, Skyidiot. They give you power.”

 

 


End file.
